


Warriors and Magic Wielders

by Kemurikat



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemurikat/pseuds/Kemurikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chapter-by-chapter collection of stories imagining Thor & Loki growing up in Asgard.<br/>Appearances by various deities of the Norse pantheon and other imagined wonders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warriors and Magic Wielders

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:**  
>   
>  Thor the movie, the Avengers and other Marvel characters belong to Marvel Comics and Paramount Pictures.
> 
> Thor, Loki and supporting cast personalities are based from the movies, my own personal touch and some selected references to canon Norse Mythology that I credit to the comprehensive website: triple w dot timeless myths dot com slash norse slash index dot html. (I mean no offense to purists out there for my liberal interpretations. I've definitely allowed and my bizarre imagination to run away on this one. ;D)
> 
> Much of the fascinating 'filler' Norse lore I credit to the websites: triple w dot northern shamanism dot org slash general slash welcome dot html and triple w dot northern paganism dot org slash. (I mean absolutely NO disrespect to any of the spirit-workers and their practices or to any of the Norse gods and goddesses or residents of the Nine Worlds that I've included in this work of fiction.) (Originally posted on FFnet 11-10-2013)
> 
> This story can stand alone but I wrote it to supplement my main story 'Such Fragile Creatures.' I wanted to explore my own backstory regarding the residents of Asgard.
> 
> ***The events, characters, organizations and any other names depicted in this story are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead or to actual organizations and events is purely coincidental***

### Story 01 - A Tournament of Warriors

  


In a chosen practice area near the borders of the plain of Vigrid in the Realm of Asgard, two young warriors were immersed in their own special brand of training for an upcoming Tournament. Determined to shine at this event was a spirited young warrior-maiden with long, raven hair who possessed a fierce bloodlust and temper that rivaled that of even Odin's Valkyries.

Preparing her for the illustrious occasion was the All-Father's youngest son, the enigmatic Loki. Having expressed no interest in joining the Tournament himself, he agreed to assist her. Normally, his older brother Thor was the ideal person with which to hone her skills but since Thor and the Warrior's Three were fellow competitors, he was the only choice left. At best, Sif and Loki shared a savagely competitive and tenuous acquaintanceship.

On the day Sif had boldly presented herself at Gladsheim's court proclaiming her intentions to be a _true_ warrior-maiden, many were skeptical and some had even scoffed at the idea. Why would a lady as lovely as Sif wish to dedicate her life to destruction and mayhem? They dismissed her claim as a whim of youthful fancy and predicted that she would 'outgrow' her warlike pursuits...but Sif was persistent and consistent with her actions.

Thor and The Warriors Three found her amusing and entertained themselves by sparring with her but she proved to be a swift learner. To their collective surprise, not only was Sif improving beyond their expectations, she was a force to be reckoned with. Over time, their respect for her grew from simple combat camaraderie to something stronger.

Happy to have been accepted into Thor's little group, Sif was included on many of their hunting trips which further forged the bonds of friendship between them. However, a day arrived when the unusual addition of Thor's younger brother to their ranks was met by Sif with violent friction. She believed that she was maliciously mismatched with Loki as her new sparring partner to 'slow her down.' She protested that Thor and The Warriors Three feared she would surpass their skills and therefore paired her with an oddball sorcerer out of malice.

Loki, on the other hand, was never interested in conventional combat and secretly asked Thor to pair him with Sif. However, Sif overheard gossip that Loki merely joined their ranks for his own amusement and it angered her greatly. With this assumption, she had no reservations toward physically hurting him and had done so on many occasions, hoping it forced him to leave. Over time, she learned that Loki was with them by the All-Father's insistence to make him a 'proper Asgardian warrior’ and it tempered much of the animosity she felt toward him. Despite their many disagreements, a tentative friendship developed between them. 

As Loki and Sif sparred near the borders of the plain of Vigrid, their delicate bond would be tested in a way neither of them expected.

"Continue dancing in that manner and I will cleave you in half," Sif growled. She swung her sword in a wide arc but her opponent easily danced out of her way.

“ _If_ you can touch me," Loki grinned, nimbly avoiding another of her slashes. "Your last strike had some improvement.”

"Why not use your sword? Your poor blade grows dull in its scabbard!”

"I have no need for it yet," Loki called out with a shrug.

She had to reluctantly admit that Loki was a skilled fighter in his own unique and unconventional way. However, she needed a true opponent and not someone hopping around like a jackrabbit!

The longer Loki stubbornly refused to draw his sword, Sif’s temper flared with every swing and slash. She tried her best to remain composed but Loki's grinning face and twinkling eyes openly mocked her many failed attempts of urging him to draw his weapon.

"I felt you graze my hair that time," Loki laughed, examining a handful of his ridiculously long ebony strands.

Gritting her teeth in fury, Sif lunged at Thor's younger brother with a battle cry. Instead of dodging out of the way, Loki simply _stood_ there, leaving no time for her to correct her forward momentum. Wide-eyed with horror, she watched as her blade sank clean through Loki's stomach causing him to yelp loudly in pain, her sword piercing him to its hilt.

“Oh, no no no! Odin's Wrath, _no,_ “ Sif babbled incoherently, her face a perfect picture of panic as she swiftly withdrew her sword from Loki's body, catching him as he sank to the ground. She may have intentionally harmed him on many occasions but _never_ to this extent.

Trembling with worry, she tried to stop the rapid flow of blood that left a slowly enlarging puddle of red as it pooled on the ground.

"By the Norns! Loki, what have you _done?_ ”

Racked by the pain from his wound, he glanced at Sif's distraught face.

"I...I suppose...I needed to know...what it felt like...to be stabbed," Loki strained to say between gasps as he stared at the blue sky above him, woefully regretting his actions and mentally cursing his uncompromising curiosity. "Odin's Spear…this truly _hurts_.”

"Of _course_ it hurts, you rabid fool!" Sif shouted back, ripping apart the leathers of his midsection to reach his wound. “You are still losing much of your blood. Can you not heal yourself with your magic?”

"I...can...but only if I concentrate. I am having...some difficulty...at the moment," Loki replied, laughing weakly. “I will be fine...soon enough.”

“I rather not waste time waiting. There is a way to heal you but make no mistake, this is the _only_ time I will ever do this." _What I do not understand is why I am doing this at all!_

Shaking her head in disbelief, Sif began removing her chest armor. Reaching down into the Duergar chain-mail of her shirt, she drew out a metallic golden rope with a glowing vial-shaped pendant attached to it. Quickly detaching the pendant, she uncorked its jeweled stopper and poised the vial above Loki's mouth.

"Hold out your tongue.”

"What...is it?”

"Do as I say and I shall give you the answer," Sif commanded sternly.

Obeying, Loki opened his mouth and watched as she carefully tilted the vial above him, measuring out a single amber droplet. It tasted sweet and rather fruity…almost like…

“Swallow."

Sif observed the motions of his mouth and throat. "Now, we wait," she said as she recapped the vial, reattached it to the golden chain and returned it to its concealed hiding place underneath her chain-mail shirt. "I am wasting this precious treasure on your carelessness.”

Before Loki could question her statement, the single droplet of sweet liquid left a glorious trail of warmth he could physically _feel_ as it travelled internally throughout his body. Once it reached the area of his injury, the pleasant warmth transformed itself into a burning fire that was focused on his wound, the scorching pain making him cry out with a grimace.

Sitting calmly beside the raven-haired sorcerer as he writhed, Sif watched as Loki clamped a gloved hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. His other hand made erratic movements: fingers clenching and unclenching, gouging furrows in the ground or forming themselves into a tight fist and pounding down repeatedly like a hammer.

When the potent potion had done its work, Loki lay panting. Once his breathing had calmed somewhat, he hurriedly removed the gloves from both his hands, scrubbed the moisture from his face and red-rimmed eyes. The pain from his wound still lingered even if his body felt more invigorated than it had ever been before.

"What in Frigga's Good Name did you give me to drink, Sif?" Loki rasped loudly, bolting upright to a seated position, his face aghast.

"You can’t recognize its taste?" Sif stared at him challengingly.

Brows creasing, the young sorcerer ruminated over what she told him.

"Impossible," Loki whispered softly. "How can _you_ have ownership of something so…sacred!"

"This vial is my birthright and passed down to every firstborn female in my bloodline," Sif explained, pressing her hand reverently to her chest. “I am the first female born to my family in a very long time. I find it a great honor.”

"Ah, is that why you try so hard to pursue brilliance and renown rather than mundane womanly duties?" Loki ribbed her with a smile.

"There is no 'try' only 'do.' What I _do_ is strictly for myself. I have no desire to be one of the many shield-maidens among the Valkyries. I want to be a true fighter and properly _earn_ you some good to take things seriously for once!”

"You think my being stabbed by your sword wasn't _serious?_ “ Loki exclaimed in amazement.

"You've admitted to doing it on _purpose_. No sane warrior would even _dare_ think, let alone willingly _volunteer_ to be stabbed!" Sif screeched in outrage. "If your Brother---“

"Thor is _not_ to be told of this incident," Loki ordered, his green eyes blazing. "I refuse to be treated like a fragile sculpture and I find it highly insulting that Thor coddles me in such a manner!”

"Perhaps if you acted more like a brother than a sister to him, Thor would cease his coddling," Sif retorted with a snicker.

"Heimdall's Heels, you as well?" Loki grunted in displeasure. "Why must everyone in Asgard continually fuss over the length of my hair?”

"Bestla's Bellow, Loki, have you _seen_ yourself in a mirror? Your face is feminine fair and now that your lustrous hair is down to your waist, the only snippet missing is a dress!”

"Then I shall wear my finest gown to the Tournament," he replied with a sneer.

“No, you _mustn’t_ ," Sif declared, clearly appalled. "Your father will be most unhappy.”

"Oh, Father won't mind. He hardly notices me anymore.”

Though Loki's tone was jokingly light, she sensed the anger beneath his words. Sif stayed silent, refusing to comment.

"However, Mother would disapprove if I did wear a dress and I'd rather not provoke _her_ wrath," Loki added, testing the weight of a stone in his palm and throwing it toward a spot on the empty field a few meters away from them.

They attentively watched from where they sat as the stone slowed to a stop in midair and exploded into a thousand shards, Loki shielding them both instantly with his magic from the sharp fragments that flew directly at them.

"This place is too dangerous. We shouldn't be here," Sif said.

"On the contrary, I find this place to be excellent training ground. Don't worry, we're at a safe distance from most of the fatal enchantments," Loki stated proudly, scanning the immediate area. "I've ventured into this plain as far as that bit of rock shaped like a hook.”

"You ventured in there _alone?_ ” Sif turned, staring at Loki with widened eyes. "How? I'm shocked that Heimdall allowed you to enter the plain that far in.”

"It's no secret that Sharp-Eye and I share a mutual dislike for one another. I'm sure he's hoping that one day I'll meet a messy and tragic end," Loki chuckled.

"Your constant antics toward our Gatekeeper fuels his dislike of you," Sif reproached.

“Nonsense! Besides, it must be horrendously boring for him, constantly standing guard, day-by-day at the tip of Bifrost. I'm merely trying to brighten his post.”

"By making his armor flowery pink?”

"Exactly," Loki grinned.

“Or by placing a miniature drunken, dancing goat atop his helmet?”

“Ah, my personal favorite.”

"The addition of an impressively phallic tower on the roof of his hall?”

"Your point being?" Loki laughed as Sif looked away, failing to shield her smile.

"I believe the troop of naked, serenading shield-maidens was rather excessive," Sif spoke, trying her best to stifle a laugh.

"The most complex spell I have ever created. Valkyries are profoundly strong-willed. Sadly, I'm forbidden from ever using that spell again," Loki sighed, cringing internally when he remembered the anger on Frigga's face.

“You are incorrigible.”

“I’m hardly that.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments as they stared at the trails of menacing energy that sporadically appeared and disappeared, contaminating every inanimate object in the plain of Vigrid…the future battleground for the coming Ragnarok.

"That was dreadfully reckless...stabbing yourself the way you did," Sif said softly.

"Forgive me, if I frightened you," Loki replied slowly. "I was...curious. Though, I can accurately assure you that I _won’t_ be stabbing myself at anytime whatsoever. That experience was horridly painful and your sword was tremendously sharp.”

"Another heirloom," Sif supplied, glancing at her bloodied blade. "I'll have to give it a proper cleaning before I can use it again.”

Loki thoughtfully regarded the length of Sif's blade, stained red with his blood.

"May I see your sword?”

"That depends…on what you will do to it," she spoke with great suspicion.

"I won't curse it, Sif. Truth is, I'm feeling generous and I've decided to give you a gift," Loki replied with an open, friendly smile. He then held out both his hands, palms up.

Staring warily at him, Sif reluctantly placed her precious sword in Loki's hands...but the sword hovered inches above his skin.

"What are you…"

“Ssh, just watch.”

Taking a deep meditative breath, Loki sat perfectly still and straightened his back. He muttered a flurry of unfamiliar words which seemed to gradually charge the very air they breathed and an unseen energy gathered itself around his body into a faint halo of light. His brow furrowed and his green eyes gleamed with great concentration as his hands and fingers moved in strange but precise gestures that orbited Sif's sword.

Anxiously, she watched as her sword grew hazy and started to vibrate, fading in and out of focus. The rapid vibration caused multiple afterimages until a pattern emerged and the many shadows grouped themselves into two distinct forms.

Gasping, Sif was stunned as she beheld the solidifying manifestation of an exact duplicate to her heirloom sword!

"It's done. Take them both," Loki whispered, his voice breathless and labored.

Quickly taking _both_ her swords, Sif stood up and marveled at the magical craftsmanship of her second blade, unable to tell the new one apart from the original.

"The swords can be linked by their pommels," Loki instructed as he laid on his back, the strands of his long, ebony hair splayed beneath him on the ground. He watched as Sif carefully linked both her swords with a sturdy click and nodded approvingly. "I've seen you sparring with Hogun and you're similarly skilled with a staff in battle. With that new weapon, I have no doubt that you will excel in the coming Tournament of Warriors.”

Sif tested the joint swords' weight by twirling them dexterously in her hands like a staff. She was speechless and stared in complete astonishment at her new double-bladed weapon.

"How did you…"

"Your blade was coated with a substantial amount of my blood," Loki explained when he saw the confusion on Sif's face. "Blood magic is powerful but very draining.”

"If this is some form of trick…"

"No tricks, Sif. Your second sword is genuine, absolutely permanent, entirely of its own existence and not bound to me in any way," Loki said earnestly, unwaveringly meeting her skeptical gaze. "Furthermore, I largely owe my success to your giving me that droplet of Iduna's Elixir. Blood magic is an extremely difficult craft and were my body not supernaturally invigorated, I'd be unconscious before I even finished. I've never tried to produce a blood creation of that size before.”

"If my second sword is made from your blood...how can you say that you're not bound to it?" Sif persisted, still unsure.

"My blood merely adds to the realism and solidity of the sword. If I infused my life-force or part of my soul into it—-which I _hadn’t_ —-then it would be bound to me," Loki explained patiently.

The young warrior-maiden stood silently beside him, staring at her new weapon pensively.

"I...I don't know what to say…"

"Consider it this way. Your new weapon is my gift to you for allowing me to experience the rare splendor of the healing properties of Iduna's Elixir," Loki smiled, his eyes twinkling, ”...and a simple word of gratitude will more than suffice.”

A strange look passed over Sif's face as she slowly approached Loki who was still laying on the ground looking exhausted. She sat down next to him and placed her new weapon by her feet.

"My new weapon is magnificent, Loki," Sif said, clearly moved. "I'm deeply grateful for your generous gift.”

"You are most welcome to it, Lady Sif," Loki answered back, pleased to see the depth of the satisfaction in her eyes.

Without warning, Sif's hands grabbed the torn jacket of Loki's combat leathers, heaving him up to a sitting position and close to her face. She then quickly pressed her lips hard against his.

It was a forceful kiss.

Loki's body was highly tensed at first, his arms outstretched, fingers twitching sporadically since he was unsure where to place them. When Sif deepened her kiss, he relaxed and closed his eyes, his hands settling firmly on her waist for support. He let her set the pace, allowing her to plunder his mouth with her tongue, making sure his hands didn't wander---he preferred to keep them---as he enjoyed the experience for what it was.

Stunned, the pair parted in a daze, Loki slamming back down to the ground as Sif released him with a push, her eyes wildly staring at him in shock.

"Uhm..." was all Loki managed to say, confused and reeling from the aftermath of what happened between them. _Sif...kissed me!_ He brought a hand to his lips which were warm and throbbing from being mashed against hers. “Uh..."

"I...that is...I," Sif uttered awkwardly, a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

"Was that kiss...a first for you as well?" Loki asked cautiously.

"I'm your _first?_ “ she sputtered out, looking mortified.

"That...displeases you?" Loki spoke, his voice cracking. Crushed, he slowly sat upright.

"Oh, no no...that's not what I meant," Sif's blush deepened out of embarrassment. "Oh, gods, that was foolish of me." _What possessed me to do such a thing!_

"The kiss…it wasn't unpleasant," Loki mumbled softly with a slight pout, his eyes staring fixedly at a pattern he drew repeatedly on the ground. _I wouldn't mind trying it again._

They sat back to back, facing away from each other, both uncomfortable for different reasons.

"We're quite an odd pair, the two of us. Being a true warrior of Asgard is all I've ever wanted, and yet you, with that wondrous opportunity within easy reach, wish to be anything but," Sif laughed weakly, trying to liven the awkward mood between them. When he hadn't reacted, she tried again. “Loki..."

"Let us test your new weapon," he spoke up suddenly, looking excited. "Out there." He pointed toward the treacherously enchanted Plain of Vigrid.

Instead of refusing outright, she hesitated, glancing at her double-bladed weapon.

"Fine. Let's do it," Sif said, gazing at Loki with a grin. With a talisman, she magically shifted from her training to her battle armor and produced an ornately carved golden face-guard with a magical enchantment, as it was drawn to her face on its own. "Wait, your leathers. They're damaged.”

"Easily repairable," Loki assured her and demonstrated his claim with waves of his hand over the exposed, taut flesh of his amply muscled stomach. She watched in awe as the battle-leathers she tore apart earlier reconstructed itself.

"Ladies first," he spoke with a slight bow.

The pair ventured several paces into the dangerous battleground, their senses highly alert for any signs of disturbances as they were slowly enveloped by a dense, rolling dust cloud.

"Are you certain you have enough strength to do this? You were completely exhausted not too long ago," Sif said worriedly, watching Loki's movements carefully.

"Though your sentiments touch my heart, I've been in this area many times before," Loki teased. "I'm prepared for what to expect. You, however, should remain quiet to better concentrate.”

"You're one to talk," she muttered irately.

He chuckled, dodging her sharp jab to his ribs, laughing out loud when she cursed.

"I'm intimately aquatinted with your tactics, Sif. You should invent new ones," Loki nettled again.

"My intentions exactly," Sif replied determinedly as she twirled her double-bladed weapon with anticipation, her body quickly shifting defensively to her left side. "Something approaches.”

"A _multitude_ of somethings," Loki corrected, pivoting to his right and flicking his arms. The abrupt gesture ignited pale green flames that enveloped both his hands, making his flattened palms glow brightly and shaped like the fiery tips of blades. "They come from all sides.”

Filled with excitement and battle-lust, Sif smiled as she gripped her weapon in readiness and beheaded the first creature that swooped down at her. The pair were then instantly beleaguered by a swarm of deformed bat-like reptilians of various bulks, each with oversized jaws, scythe-like claws, dagger-tipped tails and rows of menacingly sharp teeth.

Hacking and slashing with joyful abandon, Sif had been so preoccupied with the ease of handling her new weapon that she was taken aback when she glanced at her companion. It was now clear to her that Loki merely demonstrated a small portion of his battle-magic whenever he sparred with them. Here, in the desolate Plain of Vigrid, Sif saw an entirely _different_ side to the over-jocular and outlandish sorcerer.

His ridiculously long mass of wavy black hair undulated gracefully with the deadly movements of his body like wispy ribbons immersed underwater. His arms radiated brightly with a pale green fire that left trails in the air as he danced mercurially around the attacking creatures, and wearing an obsidian face-guard similar to hers that he conjured. His sword-like arms of glowing green carved the deformed creatures around him with artful savagery and precision.

A realization hit her like a lightning bolt. The Loki she saw before her…was captivatingly beautiful.

"Behind you!" Loki yelled, hurling a crescent-shaped bolt of magical energy past the side of her head. She whirled in time to sink one end of her double-bladed weapon into the deformed creature that was nearly upon her, cleaving its body into two even halves.

"It's so unlike you to be distracted like that," Loki scolded, running to stand closer to his female companion. "What's _wrong_ with you?”

“I was distracted," Sif said as she swung her double-bladed weapon. She slashed two creatures that dove at her, removing their wings, then impaled their heads separately to the dusty ground with the detached swords she held in each hand. The instant she saw a pause in the creatures’ attacks, she moved to whisper in Loki’s ear, ”I was distracted by how deliciously handsome you look in your tight battle-leathers.”

She then swung quickly behind her and her blades pulled free from her victims with a thick gurgle.

"You...were _what?_ “ Loki exclaimed with a start, completely flabbergasted, his body staggering clumsily in the wake of what she said as he blushed underneath his mask.

She laughed cheerfully, winking playfully at him, delighted that she managed for _once_ , even for just an instant, to totally unbalance the wily Trickster.

"You have a wonderful laugh, Sif. You should do that more often," Loki smiled, pleasantly warmed by her closeness as they stood back to back defending themselves from the never-ending swarm of deformed airborne attackers.

"Maybe I shall," Sif laughed merrily, nudging him playfully with her backside.

For the first time since they met, the pair were completely at ease with each other, their lighter, more playful behavior augmenting their offensive attacks and defensive teamwork. For anyone watching, the young duo were a sight to behold as they twirled and twisted, thoroughly complementing each other's combat maneuvers and visibly diminishing the seemingly innumerable oncoming swarms of deformed reptilian threats.

On designated training ground near the hall of Valhalla, Thor and The Warriors Three had completed their combat exercises for the day in their own preparations for the coming Tournament of Warriors.

"That was a clever move with your sword, Thor. My shoulder will be sore from that hit tonight and it better not bruise," Fandral griped with a pout.

"Be glad that I spared your face," Thor chuckled, his longish blond hair in total disarray.

"Under threat of a nasty death if you _had_ hit it," Fandral warned with a wink.

"Quite true," Thor laughed heartily.

"A nasty death indeed! Fandral's hordes of lady-friends would hunt each of us down and flay our skins while we sleep if we ever permanently harmed a hair on his fair head," Volstagg chuckled deeply in his infectious baritone.

"It's nearly sunset. Where are Sif and Loki?" Hogun asked.

"Ymir's Marrow! We have to find them quickly or they may very well kill each other," Thor said crossly, dusting off his battle armor and adjusting his sword belt.

As Thor and The Warriors Three headed straight for the stables, they felt an unusual disturbance in the air and a soft gust of wind. Coalescing a short distance away were the bedraggled forms of Loki and Sif as they clumsily stepped out from a swirl of green and onto the training ground.

"What in Tyr's Golden Hand happened to you two?" Fandral exclaimed in surprise.

What shocked Thor and The Warriors Three most wasn't the pair's dirty, tattered armor, their many injuries or that they were covered head-to-toe in blood and a blackish ooze…rather, it was the _bright-eyed, jubilant smiles_ on both their faces as they limped arm-in-arm toward them.

"Brother, I believe Sif and I require the swift attentions of a healer," Loki winced but smiled nevertheless with mirth as Thor ran to support him before his weakened legs gave out.

He heard Sif titter beside him softly just before Volstagg hoisted away her wounded body, cradling her in his meaty arms.

"Put me down, Volstagg, I can walk!" Sif protested, batting at his armor then gasping, cradling her hand.

"I do this because I _care_ and not just as a simple courtesy," Volstagg insisted gruffly, marching forward with his chin held high.

"Be grateful for his offer, Sif," Loki smiled as he limped beside his brother. "You've endured it bravely but I know your leg's badly injured.”

"You're hurt heavily as well, Brother," Thor declared worriedly, seeing the many gashes and spatters of blood that matted Loki's leathers and tangled black hair. "This is the _last_ time I see you both in such a state, do hear me?”

He glanced at Loki who nodded solemnly and turned away, then at Sif questioningly, but Thor's anger melted when she gave him a subtle gesture with a mischievous twinkle in her lavender eyes. Grinning diabolically, he swiftly grasped his younger brother's slight frame and heaved a startled, yelping Loki into his arms.

"Thor! Set me down, _now_ , you lumbering, troll-brained goon!" Loki shrieked, squirming and futilely pushing at his brother's chest with as much force as his weakened body would allow. "This is highly undignified!”

Clutching her stomach, Sif snickered helplessly, her body shuddering with glee in Volstagg's arms. The others were equally entertained by Loki's awkward predicament as they heckled and whistled in reaction to the silver-tongued sorcerer's progressively _filthier_ curses.

"You should conjure yourself a dress, Loki, that way, we can all satisfy our curiosities about who among Asgard's virile males succumb to your feminine charms," Sif taunted, their little group immediately exploding into clamorous guffaws.

"Oh, stuff a cork in it, you barbaric tramp," Loki barked, annoyed by everyone's boisterous chortling at his expense and crossing his arms with a sour expression...but behind his venomous exterior, his indignation toward being carried around like a delicate maiden had long since vanished. He maintained his angry facade knowing that it made Sif laugh as he secretly basked in the pleasurable sounds of her peeling laughter.

Unknown to Loki and Sif, someone among their group found their clandestine glances toward one another rather astounding.

"I shudder to think that a grand miracle has occurred this day," Fandral mumbled, glancing repeatedly between the once quarrelsome pair.

At Valhalla's golden stables, the group scattered, selecting their favorite stallions.

"You'll ride with me," Thor said, still carrying the indignant young sorcerer in his arms.

"Brother, as much as I’m flattered by your _overprotection_ , this is truly unnecessary," Loki stated flatly.

"I'll be satisfied once we arrive in Eir's Healing Room," Thor replied stoically, setting him down as they approached Falhofnir's, stall.

Rolling his eyes, Loki mounted the horse slowly, carefully hiding his wincing face. Thor settled behind him on the saddle, encircling an arm around his waist protectively and urging Falhofnir to a fast canter. Glancing to his right, he noted that Sif had ridden with Volstagg on Gisl and was keeping pace with them. Galloping unencumbered, Hogun and Fandral preceded swiftly toward Fensalir to inform Eir the Healer of their arrival, allowing her to prepare the Healing Room to accommodate them.

"If Mother sees me like this, I won't hear the end of it," Loki sighed, flicking a tangled strand of his black hair that fell across his face.

"Where had you and Sif gone off to?" Thor asked curiously. Though his question was met with silence, he pressed on. "Wherever the two of you went and whatever you did today...it's obvious enough to me that you and Sif are no longer angry with each other," he said perceptively, privately relieved of this fact. He had hated seeing the animosity between them and the violent results of their arguments.

"Sif and I seem to have...resolved most of our differences," the young sorcerer stated softly.

"Then I'm of glad of it.”

Loki felt the arm that encircled his waist tighten and he stiffened slightly. There was something decidedly odd about Thor's closeness to him and he had no idea how to react to it---at least mentally---but the way his _body_ responded was rather frightening!

"Your hair has been ruined," Thor whispered in his brother's ear with a grin, unaware of the shiver that passed through Loki's body.

"It...n-nothing that can't be fixed," was the hurried answer.

"I dislike seeing you hurt," Thor whispered again, his lips millimeters from his brother's ear. He had an overwhelming afterthought to bite the lobe.

"Nor I...y-you," Loki replied unsteadily, the heat rising on his skin. His brother's lips were much too close, his body more than aware of Thor’s... _maleness_. In a near panic, he thought of jumping from the horse but his brother's grip on him grew tighter. _Mimir's Well, what's wrong with me?_ “…Thor?"

"Mmm?" Thor nuzzled his lips without a second thought against the side of his brother's smooth, elegant neck, feeling him stiffen and shiver simultaneously.

"What...what are you doing?" Loki squeaked meekly, tightly entangling his fingers in Falhofnir's mane, effectively preventing himself from doing something rash---such as springing from the saddle!

"What do you mean?" Thor replied innocently as his lips lazily grazed down his brother's neck.

"Nnn...never m-mind..." Loki answered tremulously, closing his eyes, helpless against his body's strange physical reactions as Thor's lips left a trail of flame against his over-sensitized skin wherever it touched. _If this is Thor's new way of teasing me...I don't find it amusing at all!_

Loki gasped audibly when Thor's warm lips kissed a sensitive spot on his neck with a slight suckle and he felt a clear jolt of arousal that went straight to his groin.

"If you don't stop what you're doing, I'm leaping from this horse!" Loki shouted in a flurry of alarm.

Stunned by his brother's words, Thor stared at Loki's angry but panicked profile, taking note of his flushed face and his ragged breathing. "Are you ill?”

"Are _you?_ “ Loki retorted loudly, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. "What in the All-Father's Missing Eye were you doing to my neck?”

"Your neck?" Thor repeated, puzzled, his head tilting slightly. "I was...oh." His brows furrowed in confusion. "Why did I do that?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Loki leaned forward heavily, the injuries he sustained and the added stress of his body's strange reactions had taken its toll.

"Brother, I'm tired. Whatever this new game of yours is, can it wait till I'm fully healed?”

"Game?" Thor parroted again, his brows crushed together, still bewildered over his actions. What baffled him wasn't why he amorously kissed his younger brother's neck; the two of them had exchanged harmless instances of affection many times. What bothered him was the current _nature_ of his affection. His kisses were more suited for a _woman_ than for his brother! How had he willingly done something so inappropriate and without any reservation? It was shocking!

The brothers rode in silence, each in deep contemplation of the unusual incident between them as they neared the warm, welcoming hall of Fensalir where Eir's Healing Room was located.

“Forgive me, Brother...I'm...too tired to stay awake..." the young sorcerer said softly, losing consciousness, his head lolling backward.

The full weight of Loki's slight frame slumped heavily against Thor's body and was instantly held in place by a strong, muscled arm.

"Loki!" Sif cried out from Gisl's mount as she and Volstagg exchanged worried glances. "Thor, we must hurry!”

"Don't fret, Sif, he just fell asleep," Thor smiled at her reassuringly but nonetheless urged Falhofnir to a full gallop. He repositioned his arm to lay diagonally across his brother's chest, his hand firmly cradling Loki's chin to keep his head from bouncing violently as the horse surged forward.

Arriving at Fensalir, Thor quickly dismounted Falhofnir's saddle with Loki in his arms and entered the hall, bounding toward the Healing Room. He skidded to a halt when Eir, along with their mother, Frigga, stood waiting for them in front of a cozy chamber with a parted curtain, the interior lit softly with scented candles.

"Lay your brother on the bed and wait outside," Eir instructed. She watched as Thor obeyed, carefully laying his brother on a white linen blanket spread atop, large, soft pillows. When he backed away to leave, he hesitated at the doorway.

"Your brother will be fine," Frigga said softly as she stood next to the Healer.

Nodding, Thor reluctantly walked away, closing the chamber's thick curtain.

Eir stood aside and watched as Frigga's hands hovered slowly over her injured son, gradually dissolving Loki's torn battle clothing. Her lips pursed into a tight line when she saw the extent of her son's wounds, her eyes drifting to an ugly gash across his right, upper thigh.

"Place the boy in the tub," Eir said as she and Frigga observed the handmaidens who quickly lifted Loki, his body hammocked inside a white linen blanket. They transported him to a simple, rectangular tub carved from stone that was located a few paces below the foot of his bed which could be separated from view by a tall curtain.

The stone tub had at least two feet of space around it on all sides, making it easier for the handmaidens to lower their precious bundle into the steaming, herbal bath. A gentle, slanted slope was carved into the stone to comfortably accommodate whoever lay in it; a tub specifically designed to bathe the wounded.

“Please, see to Sif, I can manage here," Frigga requested gently, taking a wash cloth and kneeling beside the stone tub to wipe the grime from Loki's face.

Nodding, Eir smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Frigga's arm and left using a door to an adjoining chamber assigned to Sif.

Standing patiently and quietly to the side were three handmaidens filled with sympathy for Lady Frigga whose face was saddened as she gazed at her wounded son. At a subtle gesture, the three young women approached the stone tub, carefully propping Loki's unconscious form upright as Frigga bathed and thoroughly examined the severity of the damage to her son's body.

So far, most of Loki's wounds were superficial and not as deep as they appeared, but when Frigga closely inspected the ugly gash on her son's thigh, she gasped.

"No...it can't be," she said in distress. She immediately recognized the nature of the wound and of the exact spell that inflicted it...since it was a deadly spell she created _herself!_ "Lay him back in the tub.”

The handmaidens fidgeted uneasily when they saw the anger and focus on Frigga's face as she briskly left the chamber.

Outside, Thor paced restlessly and nearly ran toward his mother to ask about Loki's condition, but he stood rooted to his spot when Frigga's face looked furious. He followed his mother's hasty steps toward a nearby chamber that served as Eir's storeroom for all her herbs and medicines.

"I believe your brother's due for another scolding," Volstagg commented, exchanging a knowing glance with Fandral and Hogun. "We all know _that_ look.”

"What's Loki done this time?" Thor said apprehensively as he glanced at the chamber assigned to Sif. "Fandral, I need to know what happened to them.”

“ _No_ , Thor. If I'm caught..." the blond replied with palms up as he backed away.

"I'm confident your lady-friends will make sure that never happens," Thor said with a grin. “Please, I need to know.”

"Fine," Fandral answered with a sigh, the imploring look on Thor's face was much too sincere to turn down. "I'll see what I can do.”

Hogun, Thor and Volstagg watched as Fandral sprinted toward the Healing Room's Reading Chamber and disappeared behind the curtain.

Soon after, Frigga left the medicinal storeroom with a large silver potion bottle and a small silver bowl, returning to her son's chamber.

"Place Loki on the bed and leave us," Lady Frigga requested curtly.

The three handmaidens did as they were told and each curtsied as they quickly departed.

A hand on her son's forehead confirmed the raging fever afflicting Loki's flushed body and not the heat from the herbal bath. Sitting on a stool beside the bed, Frigga placed towels underneath her son's infected leg to keep the bed clean during treatment.

Using her fingers, she parted the ugly gash and poured the silver bottle's potion measuredly through its thin spout directly into the wound. Loki's flesh sizzled and bubbled with every drop of the milky liquid. Though unconscious, her son moaned in pain, his head thrashing from side to side.

"Endure it, Loki. This is the only way to heal the wound," Frigga said out loud.

She watched as the milky liquid that pooled in her son's wound changed to a black ooze which prompted her to take the silver bowl, placing it beside the gash. The menacing-looking black ooze was then drawn from the wound, trickling out on its own till it filled the silver bowl.

Glaring at the bowl, Frigga's eyes briefly flashed with a fiery red glow, incinerating the silver bowl's disgusting contents in a conjured, miniature, swirling pillar of flame.

"Loki, you must drink this," Frigga instructed. She kissed her son's fevered forehead to partially awaken him as she propped his head up with her hand, carefully tilting the silver bottle's spout into his mouth and observing the swallowing motions of his throat. “Good, now sleep. We will talk when you fully awaken tomorrow."

In the adjoining chamber, Sif's cries of pain were muffled by a wadded towel she stuffed into her mouth. (She insisted on zero painkillers---coz she's tough that way ;D) Once Eir had properly sealed the bone of her leg together, it was wrapped in a tight bandage.

Wiping the sweat from her damp face, Sif watched Eir's gentle hands soothe the many welts, gashes and scrapes on her body with a thick ointment.

"Don't push yourself too hard, young one, when the only enemy is yourself," Eir spoke softly.

Sif remained silent, gazing down at her bandaged fingers.

"How is Loki?" she asked shyly.

"Lady Frigga attends to him personally," Eir said, glancing at the door connecting their chambers. "He is well and out of danger."

"That's good to hear," Sif replied, visibly relieved.

"It seems you have a visitor," Eir whispered, her grey eyes twinkling with amusement as she held up a finger over her smiling lips. "Keep your voices low and you must rest soon after."

"I will," Sif answered. She watched as the tall, enigmatic Healer left her chamber through the adjoining door just as a young handmaiden peeked her head past the curtain from outside.

"It's safe," she whispered, ushering in a taller handmaiden who was wrapped entirely in a white cloak, her face and identity concealed by a thick veil.

"It's me," Fandral said softly, sitting by Sif's bedside and removing the veil from his face. "I'm here on Thor's behest."

"What does he want?" Sif hissed, quickly covering herself with her blanket to hide her blush. She was entirely naked underneath the thin cotton garment that she wore.

"He needs to know what happened for both of you to have gained such frightful injuries," Fandral replied.

"Oh..." Sif hesitated, her mind instantly traveling to the kiss she shared with Loki. "I...I think it's best if Thor learns that story from his brother.”

"I'd like to know as well," Fandral said with a sly smile. "Whatever went on today, you and Loki have completely transformed yourselves from a pair of warring bulls to...dare I say it? Good _friends?_ ”

"We've...resolved most of our differences, yes," Sif answered softly, nibbling at her lower lip. "Loki...has also helped me immensely for the upcoming Tournament.”

"Really?" Fandral's curiosity piqued at her statement. "In what way?"

"You'll find out on the day of the Tournament," Sif replied, returning her friend's sly smile. She grinned diabolically when Fandral's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. "I guarantee you that it's _worth_ the wait."

"Not even a tiny hint?" Fandral asked, giving Sif his most charming smile.

"I'm immune to your wiles, Fan. Besides...I don't fancy you," she giggled.

"Is that so?" Fandral said, stroking his chin and regarding the warrior-maiden's wary stare. "Then is it _Loki_ you fancy these days?"

"Whua---!" Sif blurted out, her face blushing bright red as her hands flew up to desperately cover her cheeks.

"Aha! I _knew_ something was afoot," Fandral grinned fiendishly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Soooo? What's it like bedding that sorcerer?”

" _Shut your mouth!_ “ Sif hissed venomously, grabbing a portion of Fandral's cloak and choking him with it. "Breathe a word of that assumption to anyone and I'll snap your neck!"

"Gnnngghhhlllkk," was all Fandral could say, nodding vigorously until Sif slowly released the firm stranglehold she had on his throat. He took a few deep breaths, rubbing at the reddish mark that was sure to appear on his skin later, distastefully adding to the dark bruise on his arm left by Thor. "Hofud's Might, you're a vicious girl."

"You'll discover how vicious I can truly be if you anger me, Fan," Sif warned.

"I never had a doubt," he agreed with a gulp. After a momentary span of silence, he asked, "What of Thor?"

"Tell him...that I give my sincerest apologies. He must learn what's happened to us through Loki," Sif replied.

"Very well," Fandral conceded. "I best get going so you can rest. We wouldn't want you to miss participating in the Tournament now, would we?"

With an affectionate wink, he stood up, covered his face with the veil and left the chamber.

  


* * *

  


The following day, just as the sun had dipped below the horizon in the Realm of Asgard, Loki woke sluggishly from his healing, potion-induced sleep. Blinking furiously, his eyes focused on the one face he was hoping _not_ to see so soon.

"Mother."

"Loki."

"I...I can explain..."

"I'm sure that you will, but first, your brother wishes to see you. He's been pestering me all day," Frigga said, turning to see Thor enter the chamber and rushing to his bedside.

"Loki, what _happened_ to you and Sif yesterday?" Thor demanded loudly.

Wincing slightly at his brother's lack of tact, Loki glanced toward Frigga who approached the bed. He could sense his mother's smoldering anger underneath her calm expression.

"Then, I'd best tell you both while you're here."

"Are you well enough to sit up?" Frigga asked.

“Yes, I think so."

Thor and Frigga helped Loki to an upright position as he leaned heavily against the many soft pillows propped behind his back. Curious, he lifted his blanket and saw the thick bandage that tightly bound the wound on his right, upper thigh.

"Here, drink this." Frigga held a small cup of orange liquid to Loki's lips.

He drank deeply without protest, emptying the cup's entire contents before grimacing in disgust from its bitter taste. Thor mirrored his expression in sympathy.

"This will remove the bitterness from your tongue," Frigga said, giving Loki one of her sister Fulla's homemade candies which he gratefully accepted.

"Thank you, Mother," Loki said with relief, quickly eating the oval-shaped, amber-colored herbal candy. He sighed contentedly as it melted on his tongue, completely washing away any bitterness and leaving behind a pleasantly sweet, fruity flavor.

Waiting patiently, Frigga brought a chair close to Loki's bed and sat down.

Feeling invigorated by the bitter medicine he was given and by one of Fulla's sweets, Loki thought carefully on what to say as he fidgeted uncomfortably before beginning his story.

"I knew the coming Tournament was important to Sif...and I took her to a place where I could help improve her skills...a place where I often go...to improve mine," Loki said, staring fixedly at his fingers. He felt his mother's flaring anger. Clearing his throat nervously, he continued. "We sparred on the outskirts of this place at first and when Sif showed her eagerness for a more challenging battle...I obliged her." His eyes gleamed with remembered delight. "Sif and I fought valiantly and...we were _magnificent_ together."

"Where is this place you speak of?" Thor asked, intrigued by the mystery and wondering if he and The Warriors Three might also train there.

"Sadly, the place I speak of, Brother, is none other than the Plain of Vigrid."

“ _What?_ " Thor exploded, glancing briefly at his mother who had closed her eyes. Clenching his fists tightly as he stood, he gritted his teeth to still his fury and added, "You recklessly took Sif...endangered her very _life_ …in that forbidden and desolate place?" His voice thundered to a shout on his last spoken word. "I know you act the fool for fun and games, and oft times I forgive you because in the end, they're harmless pranks...but _Vigrid_ , Loki? What you did wasn't just foolish, Brother..."

Thor neared the bed, leaned over and forcefully jutted his face centimeters away from his younger brother's anxious expression.

"What you did was _beneath_ even the basest form of absolute stupidity."

With that statement, Thor stormed out of the chamber.

Visibly deflating, Loki slumped against the pillows of his bed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears filling his eyes as he stared at the curtained doorway where Thor had passed through in righteous anger. Turning toward Frigga who sat silently beside his bed, he said, "I'm sorry, Mother. I know what I did was reckless and foolish but I would never have let _any_ harm befall Sif."

Frigga remained silent but her graceful features were hard and unyielding.

"The wound on your thigh, Loki...was it inflicted on you by a creature that had the body of a wolf, the extended claws of a bear and the head of a serpent?" she asked calmly.

"Y-Yes...exactly as you described," he answered shakily. His breathing felt constricted and his heart threatened to hammer through his chest. "How did y-you..."

"You're _lucky_ I had an antidote to that creature's poisoned claws," Frigga explained darkly. "Otherwise, you'd be screaming in agony before me, _begging_ for someone to kill you. Death is a tender mercy from being forced to watch as your body slowly _rots_ before your eyes."

With a convulsive gasp of shock, Loki gaped in complete horror when he arrived at the realization that he had nearly died from a spell borne from Frigga herself! His skin drained itself of color and he felt nauseous when she stood to her feet.

"You disappoint me deeply, Loki. First, by your own admission that you _repeatedly_ entered the plain of Vigrid, disobeying a strict mandate that _disallows anyone_ from that forbidden area. Second, you risked not only your life but Sif's as well. The consequences for your indiscretions will be severe," Frigga declared imperatively, her piercing glare vastly intimidating. "As penance, I will deny you the use of something precious to you, something you will _sorely miss_.”

Audibly gulping, Loki stared with overwhelming dread at Frigga, daring not to guess what she implied. When he felt the air crackle around him with a malevolent energy, he whimpered softly.

“From this moment forth, I shall BIND you, Loki. You are prohibited from using your magic till I deem your contrition sufficient," Frigga commanded, her voice a thunderous chorus of several beings simultaneously when she uttered the word 'bind.'" Her face was hard but her eyes softened slightly in sadness when she saw the devastated expression on Loki's face. "Eir will visit you shortly," she added curtly.

With a flutter of her pale blue robes, Frigga solemnly left her son's presence.

In the adjoining chamber, Sif shuddered in fear and worry when she felt a swell of powerful energy from just beyond the annexed door. For the remainder of the night, she tossed about restlessly, unable to sleep until much later in the evening.

Sif woke to a gentle shake and immediately recognized the woman beside her bed. Her light-brown hair was braided in intricate knots above her square-shaped shoulders, deep-set grey eyes gazed kindly at her and were framed within a face of angular features. She carried herself with an expression that was always calm but serious.

Eir the Healer had come to visit her.

"Good morning, Sif. How do you feel?" she spoke gently.

"Much better, Eir, thank you," Sif replied with a smile. "My leg's healing nicely. It doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Would you like to try standing?" Eir asked, sensing her patient's eagerness.

"Yes, please," Sif answered in barely contained excitement. She needed to know if her leg was strong enough to make it to the adjoining room. She desperately wished to see Loki, especially after the foreboding energy she felt last night.

She stood to her feet with Eir's assistance, wincing slightly when she placed her weight on her injured leg. Eir knelt down and ran her hands along the bandaged limb.

"The bone is still too tender. You'd best refrain from using your leg today," she advised. "Push it too quickly and you may not heal in time for the Tournament."

Startled, Sif saw Eir's knowing smile and hopped back into bed.

"Eir...how...how is Loki?" Sif asked shyly.

"He is...healing," she replied guardedly.

"I expect that I'll be banned from the Tournament as punishment," Sif said wretchedly. "It's just as well. What Loki and I did was reprehensible."

"The Plain of Vigrid is a _forbidden_ area, an extremely deadly and perilous place. You and Loki would have died there and should _not_ have entered it," Eir reprimanded sternly, then sighed, glancing at the door to the adjoining chamber. "Fear not, Sif, the Lady Frigga already passed her sentence last night."

“ _What?_ On Loki alone?" Sif blurted out in alarm. "That's not fair! We should both be punished! I agreed to go into Vigrid _with_ him!"

"As the All-Father and the Lady Frigga's son, Loki knew better than to blatantly defy a strict edict established for everyone's protection. The fatal battle-enchantments of Vigrid were created for only one purpose: to kill efficiently and indiscriminately. Loki knew this and yet he _still_ disobeyed," Eir declared with a shake of her head. "There is nothing we can do except wait patiently for Frigga's anger to subside. We may offer Loki comfort during this difficult time...but he will no doubt refuse it. He knows he's at fault and will humbly accept the Lady Frigga's judgement."

Stricken, Sif stared at the adjoining door to her room, the desire to see Loki burning insistently in her chest.

"May I see him?" she asked imploringly.

Loki had burrowed under the blanket of his bed as the door to his chamber creaked open. He knew who his visitors were but he was in no mood to talk to them.

"Your friend wishes to see you," Eir said gently. When there was no reply, she ignored it, ushering the young warrior-maiden into the chamber and to a high-backed chair beside Loki's bed. "I'll fetch you when you've finished."

Sif watched Eir who quietly left, her lavender eyes then drifting downward to look at Loki who was turned away from her, his blanket pulled up to his ears, his long black hair fanned out above him. She sat patiently, confident that her new friend would soon speak to her. When the uncomfortable silence stretched on, she found it difficult to choose what words to say.

"I...Eir has told me that...the Lady Frigga has..." Sif faltered, cursing inwardly. Seated so close to him, she was tempted to stretch out her right arm and tear away the blanket that covered him from view, but she thought better of it, her fingers curling around a portion of fabric instead. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and said, "I don't believe it's fair that you alone must bear the burden of penance. We went into Vigrid together, Loki."

After a long moment, she bit her lip when her words were left unanswered. Curling her fingers tightly around Loki's blanket, she was about to pull on it when he replied, "I should have known better than to risk your life so carelessly in such a place."

"I _agreed_ to it! I knew it was dangerous for both of us...but I was so selfishly eager to use my new weapon," Sif argued.

"I was just as eager to see you use it."

His words made her pause. There was an underlying compliment to what he said and a warm feeling spread along her body from the base of her spine.

"May I ask...the conditions of your forfeit?" Sif said cautiously, cursing her bold curiosity and expecting Loki to stay silent.

"I've been...Bound by a curse," he said softly. "I'm incapable of using _any_ magic till Mother's satisfied with the depth of my remorse."

Sif gasped in sympathy at the severity of Loki's punishment.

"Then...on your behalf, I shall beg the Lady Frigga's forgiveness, implore her for clemency in exchange for me bowing out of the Tournament of Warriors."

There was movement from Loki's prone form as his head slightly jerked in her direction. "You've been training relentlessly for the coming Tournament, Sif…yet…you would _willingly_ throw that chance away…for _me?_ “

He paused, rolling over to face her, most of his body still concealed by the blanket. The linen fabric hid the lower half of his face but she could see that his brow was furrowed and his rich green eyes gazed sadly at her.

"Don't be foolish," Loki replied. "Go to the Tournament, Sif, this is _my_ burden alone to bare."

"No. I will bare it with you," she said adamantly.

"Sif," Loki's tone had hardened. "I said, no."

"You won't bare this alone. I'm just as much to blame for what happened."

She gasped when Loki's left hand had snaked under the blanket, tightly clasping the wrist of her right hand. The portion that covered his face fell away, revealing the stubborn set of his jaw-line.

"For the last time, Sif, _no_. This matter is settled. You _will_ fight in the coming Tournament. I _will not_ allow you to throw that chance away and for your new weapon go to waste!"

The menacing look in Loki's eyes reminded her of how mesmerizing he appeared to her when they fought together in the forbidden plain...and he was just as startlingly beautiful now as he was then. An unexpected emotion stirred within her as Sif stared, completely stunned.

Loki saw the change on her face and felt her trembling as the sensation traveled up his own arm, his breath hitching in reaction. As if drawn to him, Sif's body leaned further forward, her other hand moving to touch him. He tried pulling away but was held in place by a strong grasp to _his_ wrist.

It was Loki's turn to shiver when Sif's fingers gently traced the contours of his face from his forehead to his chin. She repeated her actions and his eyes slid shut as he savored the warmth of her fingertips which roamed his features---as if memorizing them---and combing rhythmically through his abundantly long, ebony strands.

When Loki felt a sharp tug to his hair, he moved obediently toward her and Sif's warm lips were again pressed to his.

The second kiss they shared was slower, gentler, more exploratory and neither of them were in a hurry to end it.

By the time Eir returned to usher Sif back to her chamber, she was shocked to find her on Loki's bed. The young warrior-maiden's head was resting on his forehead as they lay facing each other, both in a deep sleep, arms entwined and wedged between their bodies, their hands clasped together tightly.

It was much later in the evening when Loki's eyelids drifted open. He yawned, surprised by how tired he felt. Sluggishly reaching out his right hand, he felt empty space. Quickly turning his head, he saw that he was alone on his bed and Sif no longer lay beside him. Grinning impishly to himself, he wondered how Eir had reacted to seeing him with Sif in such an intimate state, anticipating the Healer's disapproval on her next visit.

Stretching his arms languidly above him, he clasped his hands together and tucked them under his head. A self-satisfied smile grew on his face when he recalled the lengthy second kiss he shared with Sif.

_It was definitely more pleasurable the second time...although, the roughness of our first kiss had it's own charm,_ Loki mused, absently stroking his lips with his tongue.

When he gathered the pillow next to him to better inhale Sif's scent which lingered on the fabric, something tumbled to the bed beside him...and he was jarred with dismay when he held the black mass in his shaking fingers.

_'I wish there was something I could do. It isn't right that you must bare your punishment alone.’_

"Oh, Sif…why have you done this?" Loki whispered sadly as he stared at the severed strands of Sif's beautiful, long hair.

  


* * *

  


The day of the Tournament of Warriors in Asgard was met with jubilant celebration. Courageous participants from all corners of the Nine Realms arrived in pomp and finery, eager to display their combative potential like parading peacocks.

Heimdall had been sent the final list of combatants through Tyr's eagle messenger before the first foreign participants were permitted to pass through Bifrost, and everyone that did noted an oddly _lighter_ atmosphere around the normally intimidating and unreadable Gatekeeper.

Today would have been the perfect opportunity for Loki to exact mischief and mayhem on Heimdall...if it weren't for the Binding curse that Frigga had placed on the silver-tongued sorcerer which prevented the Trickster from using his magic. Word had spread like wildfire when Loki's punishment was discovered, and the sorcerer had prudently made himself scarce, avoiding the taunts and vindictive repercussions he was sure to receive from some of the resident victims of his pranks.

Sif's leg had mended itself much faster than Eir predicted and the Healer suspected that the young warrior-maiden's determination to join the Tournament was prime motivation. Sif had also secluded herself in private the minute she left the Healing Room, refusing to see anyone who knocked on the door of her dwelling. Thor and The Warriors Three immediately began to worry about her strange behavior, although no one was secretly more curious than Fandral, who wondered if Sif's current attraction to Loki had something to do with her disappearance.

"She merely prepares herself for the Tournament. We all know how hard she's trained for this day," Hogun stated as he examined the fit of his battle armor in a tall mirror that was attached to a wall in Thor's massive bedchamber. He frowned in disapproval when Fandral playfully nudged him aside with his shoulder.

"My turn," the golden-blond grinned gleefully as he began primping his hair.

"When you're done admiring yourself, Fan, I need to finish up," Thor chuckled, fiddling with a buckle on the back of Volstagg's battle-doublet. "Is that tight enough?"

Flexing his hulking arms back and forth, the great redheaded warrior nodded.

"Yes, that feels much better," Volstagg replied approvingly. He chuckled when Fandral refused to leave his spot in front of the large mirror despite Thor's attempts to use it himself.

Hogun walked toward Thor and helped the young blond fasten the top part of his new battle garb. "Did you really think you could pry Fandral away from his face?"

Shrugging with a laugh, Thor said, "It's always worth a try."

There was loud knock on the bedchamber door and a male servant strode through as he held it open. With a bright smile on his seasoned face, Odin walked in wearing full ceremonial golden vestments, with the exception of his impressively winged and horned helm, that was customarily placed on his head moments before taking a prominent seat at the Tournament.

Everyone immediately stood to attention and bowed low in respect.

"All-Father," The Warriors Three said in unison.

"Hello, Father," Thor greeted with a grin.

"From rambunctious little boys to strapping young men," Odin said proudly, admiring how much his son and his friends had grown. To him, it seemed like only yesterday when Thor had donned the armor of a novice and learned how to use his first sword in fledgeling combat with the Einherjar in the practice arena of Valhalla. Now, his eldest son was to participate in his first Tournament. "Thor, let's have a look at you."

The Warriors Three stood aside as Thor did a slow turn in front of his doting father who made minor adjustments to his protective garb’s overall fit. The silvery metal plates over his dark-gray leathers were smooth and made of Duergar forged steel which molded nicely to the muscled contours of his body.

"This new armor is too generous a gift, Father."

"Nonsense, my boy. This is the same armor I wore when I was a lad fighting frost-thurses in the Realm of Niflheim...with a few minor differences," Odin said, clearing his throat. He then noticed the absence of a special member of Thor's elite group and asked, "Where is your warrior-maiden friend, Sif?"

He was surprised to see the uncomfortable glances made between them.

"We are uncertain," Thor replied uneasily. "We haven't seen her since we brought her to Eir's Healing Room with Loki." There was a tinge of distaste when he spoke his brother's name. He still hadn't forgiven Loki for gambling with Sif's life by bringing her with him into the Plain of Vigrid.

"Her name's still on the Tournament roster, she will be in attendance," Fandral offered with a shrug. "While we're on the subject of The Missing, I haven't seen Loki around either."

"I'm sure he's sulking deep in a Helheim cavern somewhere," Thor muttered.

"Don't speak ill of your brother. He's genuinely repentant for his foolishness and Frigga has punished him severely," Odin admonished.

"My apologies, Father. I was out of line," Thor replied formally.

"Well, now. I shouldn't be keeping any of you here with my idle chatter. You boys have a Tournament to attend."

Inside an enormous, fortified colosseum in Asgard modified for the Tournament of Warriors, Loki kept to the shadows as he personally investigated the many combatants that were participating. Most notable among the mix were a few shining Alfar and the more menacing Dark Alfar from the noble houses of Ljossalfheim and Svartalfheim. There were formidable fire-etins from Muspellheim, massive frost-thurses from Niflheim, stalwart and stocky Duergar from Nidavellir, the happy and easy-going warriors of Vanaheim, a selection of elemental giants and trolls from Jotunheim and even two or three foreboding denizens of Helheim.

His identity concealed by a dark-green cloak and jeweled face-shield, Loki blended well with his surroundings and hardly anyone paid him any attention, permitting him free roam of the staging area. Rather than his presence there be a foreshadowing of mischief, the young sorcerer's main goal---apart from pure curiosity---was to discover the whereabouts of his warrior-maiden friend, Sif.

After wading through most of the gathered pockets of participants, Loki finally found her as she entered, clad in a new set of battle garments. He hadn't seen her since their experience in the Healing Room. He sorely missed her and sought her out, eager to simply talk to her or bask in her presence.

"That's an interesting new battle outfit," Loki remarked, leaning against the stone wall casually beside her.

"Without the use of your magic, this is a very dangerous place for you," Sif warned, testing the weight of her new shield.

"That's rather condescending of you to say, Sif. I'm not a helpless infant. I can defend myself if need be, _regardless_ of the state I'm in," Loki replied with a pout.

"Why are you here?"

"Can't I wish you a friendly, 'good luck?'"

"Fine. You've given it. Now leave before you're discovered," Sif said curtly.

Loki was taken aback by her frigid mood toward him, especially after the pleasurable time they spent together in his Healing Room chamber.

"I can help you grow it back," Loki prodded gently, ignoring her glare.

"Of that I have no doubt," Sif replied with a sigh, not exactly open to the idea of a magical mishap befalling the remaining hair on her head. "...but I appreciate the offer."

Visibly relaxing, Loki smiled warmly at her and she gradually returned his gesture with a smile of her own. "May I see you after the Tournament?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, you'll see me around. The others won't let me out of their sight once they've found me," Sif stated with a soft snort. "Speaking of which, here comes your brother."

"My cue to leave then," Loki said with a grin. Quickly removing the leather glove that covered his right hand, he gently brushed her cheek with his fingers before she could pull away and with a playful wink, he added, “ _Win_ , you ruthless she-wolf," and was gone before she could say a word.

Sif went rigid, staring at the empty space where Loki had stood, his caress on her cheek lingering like a smoldering ember.

Retreating swiftly to the opposite end of the arena's staging area---and far away from his brother---Loki overheard an interesting conversation between a group of Asgardian warriors who were mingling with visitors from Vanaheim and Nidavellir. Apparently, there was a rumor circulating that residents of _Midgard_ were among the combatants. For the young sorcerer, intrigue this significant was worth his personal and careful scrutiny!

Pretending to adjust his garments, Loki stood nearby and listened to a large, mixed gathering of Tournament participants.

"Is it true? That we have warriors from Midgard among us?" a Vanaheim warrior asked with excitement.

"Not only that...but I heard something a bit more disturbing," an Asgardian combatant replied.

"Don't keep us in suspense. Tell us!" several warriors said at once.

"Amora the Enchantress has returned to Asgard," was the ominous answer.

The entire group gasped collectively.

Loki was equally astonished. He had read and heard many tales of the heretical sorceress and today was his chance to meet her in the flesh! Though excited to move on, he stayed, making sure he had gathered all the relevant information.

"I doubt any of the mortals will survive the First Round," an Asgardian warrior said snidely.

The gathered group of seasoned warriors snickered and chuckled in agreement.

Just then, there was a hum of commotion. The immediate area was filled with a rising tide of whispers as Loki felt the warm buzz of five powerful auras steadily approaching. He stood ramrod straight, his deep emerald eyes widening partly in awe and partly in disbelief when he saw the first individual through the parting crowd.

"That's _her_. It's Amora," someone exclaimed.

At the forefront of the group sashayed a shapely golden blonde in a revealing bright-green leather ensemble. Her tightly cropped corset generously presented her more than ample bosom and her tiny, low-rise, barely there britches (more like bikini) scandalously exhibited her shapely hips and legs which were covered by snug, thigh-high, high-heeled boots. She wore a gold chain across her bare belly with various arcane charms dangling from it, golden wrist-guards and an emerald coronet in her loose, wavy, bright blonde hair. Her face was beautiful and sensually attractive, (whether naturally or by use of magic---she ain't telling xD) with piercing green eyes like spring leaves and full lips that were as red as rose petals.

"Greetings, everyone. It's been a while," Amora spoke with saccharine charm as she addressed the motley group of assembled warriors from Asgard, Vanaheim and Nidavellir.

When she was met by uneasy silence, she tittered and walked on, the four cloaked figures that trailed behind her drifted along unassumingly like passing shadows.

Keeping a safe distance, Loki darted behind Amora's little troop, observing them as they traveled quietly through the staging area to a more remote, less occupied section. He hid behind a column when the troop stopped near a wall with cushioned benches.

"Much better. It's less crowded here at least," a woman's voice said.

"It will have to do," another woman spoke, then sighed.

"Excuse me a moment," Amora replied, then instantly _vanished_ from view.

Loki felt the danger moments before and he dodged to one side, the flash of a knife thrust past his head from behind. He nimbly leapt away, placing some distance between him and the Enchantress, his heart racing in his chest.

"You're fast," Amora commended, brandishing the dagger she held casually in her hand. "I'm faster."

He continued to avoid Amora's swings, unaware that he was being herded toward her companions. By the time Loki realized the Enchantress's maneuver, it was too late. He was blocked from escaping on all sides. Denied the use of his magic, it would be difficult to defend himself against five attacking opponents of unknown skill without the skirmish resulting in serious injury or worse. Adding to his apprehension was the feeling of a powerful cloaking spell that surrounded the area, which he suspected effectively hid him and Amora's troop from Heimdall's awareness.

Spinning warily like a mouse in a cage, Loki cursed softly, breathing heavily in anxiety as he kept his mind busy trying to devise a way out of his precarious situation.

"What do you want of me?" Loki demanded, furious that he was caught.

"I believe it is _you_ who encroached upon us," a man in the troop corrected.

A woman asked adamantly, ”Why do you follow us?"

"Forgive my intrusion. I heard a rumor and I was curious," Loki replied, glancing at the four cloaked figures whose faces were hidden in the shadows of their hoods. "Is your group, by any chance, representatives from Midgard?"

The troop exchanged glances with one another, the four looking to Amora.

"You sound young. Who are you?" the Enchantress asked, sheathing her dagger as it disappeared in a haze of smoke.

Should he tell them? Loki was unsure of their intentions and he was vulnerable in his Bound state. What if he revealed his true identity to them only to find out that they intended to capture him all along? He also read that Amora the Enchantress was ruthless when it came to satisfying her whims, no matter which direction it took her or what laws she had to break. It was that aspect of her personality that gave her a bad reputation among the citizens of Asgard.

"Who I am is of no consequence," Loki decided to say. "I'm only here to fight in the Tournament and I apologize again for my intrusion. I meant no offense."

"Not good enough," Amora said and gave a subtle gesture to one of the cloaked figures, who moved forward.

Craning his neck upward, Loki backed away slightly as he stared at a towering mountain of fabric walking toward him. When his boots stepped on something odd beneath his feet, he quickly looked down.

_Is that…hair?_

Loki yelped in distress when a million tendrils of reddish _hair_ swarmed over him like a sea of thread-sized tentacles, immobilizing his limbs. He was now a helpless insect caught in a very strong web.

"Now, then, shall we see who's under that mask?" Amora said, approaching the flinching intruder and reaching out with her hands to remove the dark-green face-shield.

Forcing his head as far back as it would go, Loki yelped again when something gripped the sides of his head, jerking him forward.

When Amora removed the mask, it was the troop's turn to gasp.

"He's just a boy!" a cloaked female exclaimed.

"Perhaps he was telling the truth, after all," a man suggested.

"We can't take any chances without confirmation. Besides, if the boy has nothing to hide, why can't he tell us his name?" a woman said.

"I prefer not to," Loki said stubbornly.

"Defiant little thing," Amora observed, rather pleased with the courageous stare of the boy's eyes despite the fear she knew he must be feeling.

"Release me," Loki demanded.

"Not until you tell us who you are," Amora replied as she crossed her arms over her chest, her own curiosity flaring.

"If I continue to refuse?"

"Then I have other ways of making you talk," Amora threatened with a grin and a wicked gleam in her eyes. She flexed her fingers.

"If you harm me in _any_ way, Enchantress, you and your companions will be severely executed," Loki declared confidently, matching the woman's leer. There was a murmur of amusement from Amora's little troop.

"Shall I try to persuade him to divulge his identity?" a deep, baritone male voice said, stepping forward.

"Wait..." Amora instructed, holding out her arm to block the hulking, cloaked figure's approach. There was a peculiar spark to the boy's angry emerald eyes that she found familiar. "I know that look. I've seen it somewhere before..."

"I don't believe we've ever met," Loki stated skeptically, recoiling reflexively when Amora clamped her hands on his head and held him in place. He braced himself for whatever harmful spell she might unleash as she stared fixedly at him, studying his features.

After a lengthy, tense moment of watching Amora's eyes methodically roam his face, Loki saw the sudden change in her hard gaze to that of pure astonishment.

"The boy speaks the truth. Release him," she requested quickly.

The innumerable tendrils of red hair that behaved disturbingly like _fingers_ loosened their grip, snaking slowly away from his body. Loki exhaled in relief as the cloaked figures relaxed their stances and broke away from their compact, circular formation surrounding him.

"Please forgive us, Master Loki, Son of Odin All-Father, for our rough and disrespectful treatment of you," Amora stated formally, genuflecting and bowing her head. "My companions and I have many enemies that wish us harm and we were overcautious. Also, may I say, that this confrontation could have been avoided. My failure to detect your regal aura is largely to blame."

“It was an unfortunate misunderstanding for both of us, Amora. Rise," Loki said with a smile. He had no reason to volunteer the information that his weakened aura was due to the powerful Binding curse that Frigga had placed upon him.

As the Enchantress rose to stand, the four concealed figures stepped back further, parting their cloaks and uncovering the hoods from their faces.

"Master Loki, Son of Odin All-Father, may I introduce you to this Tournament's entrants from Midgard," Amora said proudly, gesturing to the closest cloaked figure. "This mountainous man is Gabriel Lan, known as Air-Walker from the planet Xandar."

The dark-eyed man-mountain was clad impressively, befitting an elite of the Einherjar or an imperial guard. He wore a seamlessly attached cuirass, gorget and helm of _flexible_ silver metal with the emblem of a blazing sun on his breastplate embellished with gold. A three-quarter length tasset covered the lower half of his body which was made of a heavy, flowing red fabric, the same material that fashioned his gloves and plated leggings.

"I am supremely honored to be in the presence of Loki, Son of Odin the All-Father who is Lord of Asgard," Gabriel stated formally, snapping his heels to attention and bowing low from the waist at a right angle with both arms crossed in a perfect 'x' over his chest, his hands flat against the front of his shoulders. "As a guest of the Golden Kingdom, please accept my humblest and sincerest apologies for my threat to cause you harm."

Loki strode forward and tapped the colossus on the shoulder, who then unbent himself and smiled warmly. He then nodded to Gabriel, reflecting the man's friendly smile.

"This lovely woman is Medusalith Amaquelin Boltagon from the Royal Family of the Inhumans of Attilan."

"I greet you Loki, Son of Odin. You may call me Medusa, for short," the woman replied with a curtsy, her soft voice clear and commanding as her monumentally abundant hair surged hypnotically behind her in rippling crimson waves, responding to her every movement and spoken syllable. She wore a lustrous body-suit of skintight fabric in varying shades of indigo with an enticing décolletage that narrowed and traveled downward, stopping to just below her navel, exposing a three-inch wide vertical line of alabaster skin from her full breasts to her firm belly. There were strategically placed reinforcements of black metal on her chest, arms and legs.

"My eyes are delighted to meet such a ravishing member of the Attilan Royal Family," Loki replied graciously, stepping forward to kiss the supple skin of her hand.

"Your flattery has charmed me, milord," Medusa replied with a brilliant smile, her green eyes twinkling.

Clearing her throat, Amora continued, "This warrior-woman is Moondragon, an adept of the Shao-Lom discipline from the Eternals of Saturn's moon, Titan."

"I meet you with the highest praise and regard, Loki, Son of Odin," Moondragon said with a low curtsy and an accent to her speech. "I look forward to fighting in the Tournament."

"Then we are grateful to accommodate a warrior of your caliber," Loki said politely and nodded to her, his eyes glancing appreciatively at her appearance.

Moondragon was tall, well-muscled with a deep tan to her skin, dramatic blue eyes and a distinctive, shaved head. Of the troop, she wore the least amount of material, the earthy shade of yellow-ochre fabric was closely molded to her body, the strips enhancing rather than covering her firm breasts, the overall effect leaving nothing to the viewer's imagination. Her only visible protection---if it even qualified as that---were metallic gauntlets that covered the length of her arms to her elbows, and metallic boots that covered her knees.

"Lastly, but certainly _not_ the least, is Dr. Stephen Vincent Strange, bearer of the Vishanti artifact, the Eye of Agamotto, a Sorcerer Supreme, as well as a skilled surgeon and physician from the planet Earth," Amora announced brightly with obvious affection to her tone.

The human male stood confidently and casually with a jovial spark to his grey eyes. He was still well within his prime but projected a maturity of age beyond his years and steaks of white at the temples of his short, black hair further accentuated that quality. Under his cloak, he wore a long, red coat over an open-collared, navy-blue, lapeled shirt with matching leather pants that were tucked inside polished three-quarter-high black boots. He had an ornately embroidered white vest and hanging just above it in the center of his chest from a gold chain cord was a round, golden amulet, a faint crease running horizontally across the middle of its bulging surface.

"I'm a humble student of the mystic arcanum, at best," Dr. Strange said with an open smile. "I'm deeply honored to meet you in person, Loki, Son of Odin All-Father, a _true_ master of the mystical arts."

"Yes, human, you're a _student_ at best," Loki responded rather unkindly, much to Amora and the troop's discomfort. There was a telltale distaste to the way he spoke the word 'human.'

"I assure you, Loki, this human male is much more than a mere student," Amora said, defending her companion.

"No need for that, Amora, the All-Father's son can address me however he likes. I really don't mind," Dr. Strange said cheerfully. "Besides, it's unprecedented enough that mortals are presently participating in Asgard's Tournament, something of a previous impossibility."

"I can guess how you were all made aware of the Tournament's existence," Loki said, looking pointedly at Amora, who shrugged.

"Thought I'd shake things up around here. This place has gotten rather stagnant and stuffy lately," the Enchantress grinned boldly.

"As for you, Amora, you've been absent from our walls a long time," Loki told her.

"I've kept busy. Midgard's been a _very_ interesting place," she said suggestively, glancing seductively at Dr. Strange who smirked.

"Then it's a miracle that I've kept you entertained for so long," he grinned.

"More than entertained, Stephen," Amora corrected with a drawl.

Moondragon and Medusa rolled their eyes as the Enchantress and Dr. Strange cooed fondly at each other. Loki crossed his arms, disinterested in the couple's public display of affection and even a tiny bit disgusted.

"I look forward to seeing you fight in the Tournament, Master Loki," Amora said, leaning comfortably against Dr. Strange's side, their arms around each other's waists. "I'm told you're a formidable opponent."

"Oh, I declined to join. Unlike my brother, Thor, I don't have the ridiculous need to prove myself to anyone, least of all to a large, screaming crowd of unruly spectators," Loki stated with his chin held high.

"What a shame," Amora replied with an exaggerated sigh, drifting toward the young sorcerer and whispering in his ear. "When you're older and I return again, I certainly _hope_ you change your mind." She tittered when Loki stiffened. "Come along everyone, we must prepare for our debut."

A bit flustered, Loki watched as Amora's troop nodded in deference to him, filing out in a straight line toward the more populated staging area. Gritting his teeth, he immediately regretted the temporary loss of his magic as the overwhelming need to face the Enchantress in mystical combat overcame him. Ah, well, at least he was able to meet the strange group of mortals in person before they were introduced to the gathered crowd at the Tournament.

Concealing his identity yet again with his jeweled face-shield, Loki darted to a section that served as guest quarters for the combatants---should they require them---and through a secret passageway that linked the Tournament's colosseum to the restricted upper floors reserved for honored guests and Asgard's ruling family.

For those unfamiliar with the general proceedings of Asgard's Tournament of Warriors, there were three main rules to the event that all combatants strictly obeyed and adhered to _without_ exception.

  1. Absolutely NO killing fellow combatants, regardless of circumstances (ie. by accident, vengeance, malice etc)
  2. Absolutely NO infliction of permanent injury to fellow combatants (ie. lasting or time-delayed curses, permanent decapitation, blinding etc.) All injuries inflicted by magical curses or enchanted weaponry _must_ wear off after the bout.
  3. Absolutely NO fighting or sabotage of any kind before or after the event. Any grievances were to be immediately reported and were instantly investigated, as guilty parties were swiftly dealt with depending on the severity of their misconduct. (Especially within Asgard's walls but beyond the main gate, it's none of the Aesir's business unless it's directly related to the Tournament)



Anyone caught disobeying these three essential rules were captured, brought before Tyr, the Lord of Swords, god of Honor and Justice, who was frequently joined by the winter goddess and huntress, Skadi. Witnesses were permitted if they were directly related to the accused or to the incident in question. Mediation was carried out behind closed doors and confirmed transgressors were never heard from or seen again.

There had only been a handful of incidents relating to participants going rogue and disobeying those rules but the consequences for such gross misconduct was instantaneous and severe---namely _death_ \---and this widespread fact was usually enough to discourage potential misbehavior.

Hence, many successful Tournaments were held and over time, the event had developed into a time of celebration, genial neutrality and cultural exchange within Asgard's walls. Thus every hall was beautifully decorated, some even had banners welcoming the many visitors from other Realms and colorful pennants were openly hung, cheering on their favorite combatant or team.

Essential rules aside, the Tournament of Warriors progressed as follows and individuals or teams of combatants fought according to the graduated schedule:

  * Round One---battling the best of Odin's Einherjar
  * Round Two---battling the best of Odin's Valkyries
  * Round Three---battling the best of the Finalists



Combatants chose in advance to participate in specific categories---or several if they have the stamina---such as one-on-one or team versus team. Each combatant was matched to an opponent of similar skill: warrior-to-warrior, sorcerer-to-sorcerer, and so forth.

Considering past catastrophes, participants were then discouraged from switching categories to minimize unfortunate casualties. As an acceptable exception, switching was only allowed when a personal challenge was issued and both parties agreed to the fight.

Becoming a finalist in the Tournament of Warriors was an illustrious honor in itself, and three days of rest and preparation were allotted after the first two elimination rounds.

The first day of 'rest' was a customary madhouse. Many halls were open to visiting warriors where boisterous feasting, drinking, mingling, cavorting and promiscuous fornication took place. Days two and three were more subdued, with many combatants either healing, repairing their armor, studying up to augment their skills, doing peaceful meditation or recovering from an extremely bad hangover.

The Hall of Gladsheim was at the hub of these festivities and was normally overrun with honored guests from the Nine Realms. However, all guests who entered the great feast-hall conducted themselves with the utmost civility in the presence of the All-Father and members of Asgard's Council.

On the third and last night of 'rest' before Round Three of the Tournament of Warriors, two individuals on horseback cantered past majestic Valgrind, the main gate of Asgard's wall. As their horses slowed to an unhurried trot beyond the noise of laughter and drinking, both riders soon crossed a portion of the Bifrost bridge that passed over the infinitely deep, treacherous waters of the heavily enchanted Thund Thvitr River which surrounded and protected the Golden Kingdom.

"We've ridden far enough. In my present condition, I think it's wise not to be within arms reach of Heimdall," Loki said with a laugh, subtly commanding his steed, Glaer, to stop with a squeeze of his legs.

"Knowing how you and our Gatekeeper are so 'fond' of each other, I daresay he’s inclined to snap your neck," Sif said with a grin, signaling her mount, Glad, to halt beside him. She looked up and around at the vast sea of stars that spanned the horizon. "I don't believe I've ever taken a moment to just...sit here before.”

"Most often don't," Loki said, admiring the vista that encircled them. "I discovered this by accident...when I was escorting Sigyn...and exploring the area with her." His face instantly saddened and he tried to hide it with a forced smile, but Sif had caught his expression.

"You miss her dearly," Sif stated simply.

“With every day that passes," Loki replied heavily. "I often wonder how she's doing and progressing in her studies."

"Do you not have any eyes left in Ljossalfheim that can send you word of her well-being?" Sif asked, curious. She knew how close Loki and Sigyn were as friends and playmates together, a very unusual pair because of their gap in age.

"I'd only miss her more," Loki said softly. "Besides, I'd rather not disrupt her lessons. Her tutors would be most displeased with me if I did." He glanced at Sif and thoughtfully regarded the shortened ends of her black hair, trimmed neatly at the nape of her neck. "How did Thor and the others react to your..." He then grabbed a strand of his own ridiculously long, wavy hair which hung loosely down his shoulders in a cascade of ebony.

"Shocked at first," Sif replied. "Then they began teasing me, telling me that I could easily have my hair back if I cut off yours."

Loki snorted derisively in reaction. "That sounds about right." After a short pause he added, "Thor's still angry with me, isn't he?"

"He's being childish," Sif said, annoyed. She paused, as if remembering something, then grinned. "Although, they were absolutely speechless when I told them the reason I cut my hair."

"You _told_ them…?” Loki blurted out, astounded.

“Not about the kiss we shared, you idiot,” Sif answered plainly, rubbing the back of her head. She felt the spiky fringes of her shorn locks. "I think I rather like it like this."

"It's these moments, Sif, when my mind utterly _fails_ to grasp the logic behind anything you do," Loki replied with a grin. Clamping a hand to his mouth hadn't helped and he soon succumbed to uncontrollable laughter. Sif seemed uneasy for a moment, then joined in with him.

They were quiet for a long while, both turning their heads to gaze at the stars above them.

"Well, I'd best get going," Sif said, stretching her arms above her head. "I need to prepare for tomorrow. I'm to fight that strange, mortal gladiator who calls himself 'Air-Walker.'" She snorted. "Air-Walker indeed. We've yet to see him fly." She then giggled. "Perhaps I'll assist him with that tomorrow," she added in amusement and shook her head. "I can't believe I'm to face a _mortal_ opponent in the Third Round." She made a face. "I never imagined _any_ of those mortals succeeding past the _First_ Round!'

"Don't underestimate Air-Walker, Sif," Loki warned. "There's something...very _odd_ about Gabriel Lan." He then tugged on Glaer's mane and the horse turned around.

Jerking her head toward Loki, Sif's eyes narrowed as she called out, "You speak as if you know him." She quicklly turned Glad around, cantering up to her companion.

"After I visited you in the colosseum's staging area...I...ran into the mortals by chance."

"I see," Sif said suspiciously, studying Loki's features. Thor's younger brother was getting better each day, schooling his emotions. It was increasingly frustrating.

"Go on."

"Amora the Enchantress herself introduced the group of mortals to me," Loki replied, narrating his (edited) experience and his personal impressions on each of them.

"I can't believe you even went _near_ that witch! She's very dangerous and can never be trusted!" Sif exclaimed angrily.

_Yes, she was dangerous but…intriguing._ "I doubt Amora would be stupid enough to harm me with Heimdall watching," Loki lied and saw that Sif had conceded to his argument. He _did_ have a good point. He also found it unnecessary to worry her about certain omitted details. "I also find it admirable that you've held off using your new weapon for so long."

"I'll be unleashing it tomorrow," Sif said excitedly. "Straight at that mortal's limbs and chest plate," she added with a grin, leaning subtly forward on her horse, Glad, and urging her mount to a fast canter.

"Sif!"

She turned to her left as Loki bobbed beside her on Glaer's back.

"Keep your movements swift, unrelenting and unpredictable against that mortal gladiator...and be _vicious_. That’s something I know you're extremely good at," he suggested and winked at her. "I'll be cheering you on. You know where I sit."

Grinning, Loki tapped his heels against Glaer's sides and the horse flew into a fast run before Sif could react. Grunting, the warrior-maiden sped up her mount, the pair laughing loudly as they zigged and zagged along Asgard's brightly lit passageways.

  


* * *

  


The Tournament's colosseum was a perfectly rounded configuration that bordered its central melee-circle which slowly rotated to give its audience a full 360-degree view of the fight. The entire structure and the surrounding area was heavily enchanted, automatically customizing itself to accommodate each bout. Every section of seating broke apart in blocks, easily expanding for larger combatants or for those prone to air battles. The audience segments also hovered in midair for fighters that frequently preferred using combustible spells and weaponry or for Earth Giant participants that rely on ground quakes. Spectator safety was paramount for the event and a powerful spell created by Odin himself, shielded everyone from debris, thrown projectiles or magical curses.

The entire colosseum was abuzz with wild excitement as they awaited the commencement of the final and Third Round of Asgard's Tournament of Warriors. The majority were eager and curious to see how Amora's unusual mortals measured up to the immortal champions they were paired with.

After the All-Father's customary foreword and his momentary pause for adoring fanfare, the combatants for the first bout were announced.

"Moondragon of Saturn's Titan from Midgard and 'Nightbane' of High House 'Obsidian Willow' from Svartalfheim." (Dark Alfar names are sung, not spoken and are often unpronounceable to the unpracticed tongue.)

With a soft rumble, the colosseum shifted and the immediate area was plunged into the darkness of a moonless night. Outside the designated melee-circle, for spectator convenience, a glamor enhanced the visibility of the combatants to that of daylight.

The male Dark Alf 'Nightbane' had deep indigo-colored skin and over it was worn a formfitting sleeveless leather shirt with pants that were cropped to his knees; his garments made of a simple design in dark-blue. His dark hair was bound into rows of tightly braided sections, his long strands secured to the top of his head in a perfectly coiled bun. At his waist was an intricately knotted belt from which hung a small squarish pouch and there was a knife horizontally placed near his lower back. Though no other items were plainly visible, the Dark Alfar were known for their clever ways of concealing numerous types of weaponry on their bodies, particularly narrow, razor-sharp, stiletto-like throwing daggers, a widely known signature killing instrument.

_The Svartalfar are ruthless opponents. That mortal may be outmatched,_ Loki mused from his high vantage point as he leaned his arms against the stone rail of his family's private seating block. To show his support for Sif, he wore his ceremonial leathers in her favorite shades of lavender and silver that he mixed with warm grey and deep blue as a personal touch. Beside him sat Freki, one of a pair of enormous, silver-furred wolves that normally guarded the entrance to Valaskjalf, his Father's private tower in the Hall of Gladsheim. Freki's head hung over the railing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth playfully as he scanned the crowd below him. Geri lounged contentedly nearest Odin, while Huginn and Muninn, his Father's ravens, were perched quietly on tall golden stands erected at both ends of the royal seating block.

Below, standing perfectly still in the pitch black of the melee-circle, Moondragon took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

_Is she mad?_ Loki thought in surprise. Closing one's eyes in the presence of a Dark Alfar was suicide! _Is she forfeiting the round?_

Though the mortal female's actions were a bit puzzling, her opponent wasted no time and began attacking her. The Dark Alf male danced around Moondragon faster than any mortal should have been able to deal with, yet she managed to defend herself with a unique grace and economy of movement.

_Could that be the 'Shao-Lom discipline' Amora spoke of when she introduced us?_ Loki wondered. _To think that a system of combat exists in Midgard able to defend against deadly Svartalfar warriors? Unthinkable!_

Rather than Moondragon's opponent exhibiting frustration, the Dark Alf was more determined than ever and increased the ferocity and speed of his attacks.

_She's beginning to falter and the Dark Alfar rarely tire,_ Loki noted to himself. Some spectators even remarked out loud that the match would soon be over.

As if fulfilling their predictions, Moondragon began sustaining injuries. Minor gashes began to bleed on areas of her exposed skin---there were many bare areas---and she started staggering. It was noteworthy, however, that the mortal female's eyelids stayed _closed_ despite her rapidly deteriorating defenses.

When it seemed like there was no other choice for Moondragon but to signal her surrender, the mortal woman did something totally unexpected. Before her Dark Alf opponent dealt her a decisive blow that would've rendered her unconscious, in an incalculable stroke of luck and timing, Moondragon sidestepped the Dark Alf's strike-path, grabbed a firm hold of his neck and released the strongest force-blast she could muster.

The watching crowd gasped as both combatants flew to opposite directions of the melee-circle, neither moving a limb.

_Incredible,_ Loki exclaimed to himself. _It's a draw!_

Once Odin announced the match as a draw, a cacophony of cheering erupted, the audience thoroughly entertained by what they had just witnessed.

"The addition of Amora's mortals to the Tournament turned out better than I thought," Odin said out loud, prompting Loki to jerk his head in the All-Father's direction. "Don't you agree, Loki?"

"From what we've seen so far, Father," Loki answered, "I may have to." _I should have known that Father somehow had a hand in all this._

"Do you regret not being able to participate in the Tournament?" Frigga asked observantly, looking calmly at her son.

"Perhaps a little," Loki admitted begrudgingly. Leaving the vantage point of their private block, he sat at his designated seat beside Frigga who was positioned on Odin's left. Thor's empty seat was at Odin's right side, his brother currently preparing himself in the colosseum's staging area, having made it to the Final Round along with The Warriors Three and Sif.

"You've never expressed a desire to enter the Tournament before, why now?" Frigga asked her son curiously, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I...I would've liked the opportunity to do battle with Amora."

_Both_ his parents then looked toward him in surprise.

With a sly grin, Odin said, "Seems Thor's not the only one coming of age."

"Oh, stop," Frigga admonished with feigned annoyance, giving her husband a playful tap on his arm.

"No, Father, it's nothing like _that_ ,” Loki protested, slightly flustered, a blush appearing on his cheeks. "I only wish to compare my mystical skill to hers."

"I'm sure you will, my son, when the time arrives," Odin said, smiling cryptically, relaxing into his seat.

The young sorcerer stared briefly at the All-Father's profile then turned his concentration to the Tournament.

To the audience's delight, the next bout was between the human sorcerer Dr. Strange and a beautiful female Alf from one of the Noble Houses of Ljossalfheim. It was _rare_ to see the High Alfar participate in the Tournament; whether they thought it was beneath them or if they chose not to show their techniques of combat to outsiders, it was unclear. 'Syllanavir', as she called herself, was from the Alfheim land of Summer. It was an Alf-realm that was permanently glamorized to represent the season and she _radiated_ of it. Her hair was golden blond with portions braided away from her face, the rest hung loosely behind her like the warm rays of an afternoon sunshine. Her battle-gown---an off-shoulder top with long, tight sleeves; gloves; laced corset with a lightly flowing skirt that parted at the front to reveal tight leggings and heeled knee-high boots---the fabric of which seemed to constantly change color, showcasing different shades of green like the leaves of a tree moving gently to a warm breeze. She was ravishing and looked very much out of place in the colosseum's melee-circle.

The human sorcerer, Dr. Strange, stood quietly, gesturing for the female Alf to go first. Nodding slightly, she waved her arms gracefully, her fingers forming a series of elaborate gestures. To those in the audience unfamiliar with Alfar techniques, the two looked like they were engaged in a game of pantomime. Apparently, the human sorcerer, Dr. Strange was versed in Alfar basic combat etiquette and Loki suspected this was largely due to Amora sharing her knowledge with the mortals.

The female High Alf's movements began to quicken as she slowly danced toward her adversary in hypnotic strides, clearly taking a more offensive stance, a transparent broadsword manifesting itself alongside her. In his defense, Dr. Strange's sweeping body movements produced a shimmering shield, effectively blocking the sword's piercing strikes. Syllanavir retaliated by producing more transparent swords---about a dozen in total---that hovered above her, flying and twirling menacingly toward the human male.

_Why is she toying with the human?_ Loki thought, puzzled. The spells being used were on par with what Alfar children learned in more advanced lessons. _Testing him, perhaps?_

True enough, once Dr. Strange subdued all of the female Alf's transparent swords in some kind of shimmering net, she tilted her head with a slight smile.

_That's never good_ , Loki said to himself. _When the Alfar smile during a confrontation, it usually means something horrible befalls their adversary._

Without warning, Syllanavir transformed into a bright, nearly blinding form of a plumed bird and dove with talons poised toward the male mortal. Dr. Strange, in turn, took the image of a large, flaming tiger, baring his sharp fangs and claws, lunging unhesitatingly at the female High Alf of sparkling light.

Echoing roars and sharp screeches resounded loudly as their alternate forms tore at each other, the gathered spectators providing extra ambient noise for the two magical warriors.

Loki was riveted, fascinated by the escalating ferocity and the gradually thickening web of mystical energy gathering within the melee-circle. His skin tingled in response to the threads of invisible magic, wishing he could burst into a greenish pillar of flame in his excitement.

_How can that human even keep up with her?_ Loki thought in confusion. _From where is this human syphoning so much power?_

That's when Loki saw it. What he thought was a simple trinket around Dr. Strange's neck, turned out to be _more_ than just jewelry. The golden amulet's round, bulging pendant had turned into a reddish, wide-open _living eye!_

_Could that be the 'Eye of Agamotto’ Amora mentioned?_ Loki wondered, largely unfamiliar with artifacts from Midgard. He vowed that on his next visit to the Akashic Library, he would wander over to the section devoted to Midgardian mystical relics.

"Seems we have another stalemate," Odin muttered. "How enjoyably interesting."

The audience watched and gasped in reaction to the energy levels within the melee-circle as it increased exponentially, the two mystical combatants whirling rapidly around each other like violent, tempestuous cyclones.

Suddenly, the enormous energy storms dissipated and the vicious windstorms ceased, leaving the minutely unkempt forms of the two master magic-wielders. There were numerous small tears on Dr. Strange's clothes and although the female High Alf's own battle-gown was still intact, there were visible creases on the shimmering green fabric.

Odin declared the match another draw, the many spectators cheering in response. Some who weren't familiar with the Alfar method of mystical combat merely scratched their heads.

Smiling widely, Dr. Strange bowed low from the waist at Syllanavir, his right hand and arm gesturing in the air in a meaningful flourish. Returning his smile was the pleased-looking female High Alf who curtsied gracefully.

_It would seem that the human has made a new friend,_ “ Loki observed. Dr. Strange approached Syllanavir and held out his hand. For a long moment, the High Alf female hesitated, then cautiously placed her gloved hand in his, allowing herself to be escorted by the human out of the melee-circle.

_Five matches remain before it's Sif's turn,_ Loki said to himself, feeling both excitement and apprehension for her. A large part of him wished for her success but not at the expense of seeing her hurt. Having shared such recent, intimate moments with her had partly changed how he viewed her. He still saw her as a strong, independent warrior-maiden but a fierce, almost selfish desire to protect her had increased a hundredfold as well.

Pushing his thoughts of worry aside, Loki sat and watched the next three bouts with partial interest. First came a pair of Duergar brothers from Nidavellir against a pair of warriors from Vanaheim. Although it was a violent and bloody battle, all four participants were in good spirits with the fight ending in a stalemate. All four combatants were evenly matched in skill and ferocity, making the outcome a matter of endurance. Eventually, the four combatants succumbed to fatigue and a rematch was scheduled for the next Tournament.

Second were The Warriors Three against a pair of fire-etins from Muspellheim---the trio were spectator favorites---and the match was more of an 'exhibition fight' than anything else since Thor's good friends had already earned their titles during the last Tournament.

Third was his brother, Thor, against a massive frost-thurse called Hrimgrimnir from Helheim, one of Hel's gate guards. The giant was just over twelve feet tall, pale, with moldy-looking bluish-white skin. Laden with more lichens and mold were the giant's long, knotted, grayish hair and beard, his ancient appearance punctuated by a pair of cold and unresponsive eyes that hinted at his great age as one having existed in a Time Before the Flood. (Basically a primordial Frost Giant or proto-etin)

_Now there's a formidable opponent for even my brother,_ Loki thought, one brow raised in amusement. _Will that fancy new armor of his be enough to shield him, I wonder?_ He snickered quietly. _Where in the Nine Realms did he get that gaudy thing!_

"Odin, that armor Thor wears...is that?" Frigga began to ask with a hint of recognition.

"I had it tailored to fit him, but yes, that's my boyhood battle-armor Thor's wearing. It should give him suitable protection from whatever Hrimgrimnir can throw at him," Odin explained proudly.

_That’s Father's old armor Brother wears now, is it?_ Loki chuckled to himself. "That's quite a generous gift you've given him, Father." He said graciously, though his eyes haven't left the melee-circle.

"I could just as easily present _you_ with battle-armor of my own design, Loki, had you expressed any interest in joining the Tournament," Odin replied.

"Belated though it was, I _had_ expressed an interest this time. However, I'm sure you're aware, Father, of why I'm not currently down there?" Loki said with mild irritation.

"Mmmhmm," Odin grunted skeptically. “Yes, it's a rather ill-timed misfortune."

"I wish to watch Thor's match in peace, if you both don't mind," Frigga warned, knowing how Odin took a strange, almost fiendish delight in constantly provoking their youngest son to fits of anger. She placed a firm hand on her son's clenched fist that gripped his armrest so tightly she feared his fingers might break.

With a hard expression, Loki stood up abruptly and strode to the furthest corner of their private seating block to watch Thor's match, his body turned dramatically away from the All-Father. Freki whined softly, having followed him and nudged his side, his right hand coming to rest behind the great wolf's head and scratching behind her ears.

"Each unkind word drives a wedge between you both that I fear might be irreparable if this continues," Frigga whispered softly, staring at her husband. "You say you test him...but to what end? Loki loves you just as dearly as you love him...and it hurts me deeply to see you constantly at odds with one another."

"I know it hurts, my love," Odin whispered gently as Huginn and Muninn squawked sharply above them. "If there was another way, I would gladly take it...but there isn't. I'm already defying the Norns by doing this."

"Perhaps if we both..."

“No, this is something I must do alone," Odin whispered firmly. "Involving you will only complicate the new webs of Wyrd I'm carefully trying to weave." He gently turned his wife's face toward him and kissed her lovingly on the lips. "I must stay the course...and Loki will need your love more than ever now."

Behind him, as Loki leaned heavily against the stone rail of their private seating block, he was unaware of the longing, lingering stares of both his parents.

Down below, Thor fought valiantly against Hrimgrimnir, the frost-thurse batting and kicking at him with amusement.

"Is that the best you can do, whelp?" the frost-thurse taunted with a deep, rough rumble. "Your Father fought me with more skill when he was _half_ your age."

"You fought with my Father?" Thor said in surprise, barely blocking a strong swing.

"I came to see if his son possessed a similar skill," Hrimgrimnir said with a grin that looked more like a grimace. "I seem to have wasted my time."

Enraged by the Frost Giant's bold words, Thor lunged with a battle-cry, his sword swinging swiftly in every direction but the giant successfully blocked his efforts.

_Patience, Brother, you're too easily angered,_ Loki thought to himself with a frown. _At this rate, he will lose the match and Father will be most disappointed._

Thor's temper was getting the best of him which affected the way he fought, making his attacks wild and clumsy.

_I can't watch this_ , Loki cringed, the entire audience reacting in distress when Thor was knocked a good distance away as one of Hrimgrimnir's punches collided with his chest.

Staggering to his feet, Thor spat the blood from his mouth and heaved a heavy breath as he tried to force air back into his lungs. When the frost-thurse chuckled at his pitiful state, his vision saw red and his narrowed blue eyes stared back with a defiant glare. _I'll purge every giant from the Nine Realms...starting with you._

"I'm not through with you yet, Jotun," Thor yelled with contempt, eyeing his fallen sword on the ground.

"Here, pup, take your needle and try in vain to prick me with it," Hrimgrimnir laughed, tossing the fallen sword so that it landed by Thor's feet.

In an observation area of the colosseum, Thor's friends cringed as they watched him losing ground to his frost-thurse opponent.

“What is that idiot _doing_?” Sif said in dismay, The Warrior's Three gathered beside her.

"If that's one of Hel's Gate Guards, I can see why he's having some trouble." Volstagg remarked.

"Helheim guard or not, Thor must never lose his temper in battle," Hogun commented.

"We shall see. Sometimes, what Thor does in anger produces some interesting results," Fandral mused out loud as he toyed with one of his dangling pearl earrings.

From the shadow of the staging area, Thor's companions silently cheered him on.

"It's such a shame that we won't see the All-Father's youngest son step into the melee-circle. I hear his mystical skills are quite a sight to behold."

The Warriors Three and Sif spun around instantly toward the source of the voice.

"You," Sif gritted out.

"Manners, girl, when addressing your superiors," Amora reprimanded with a quirk of her red lips.

"Funny, I don't count you among them," Sif retorted.

"What spirit!" Amora laughed. "Perhaps I'll trade with Air-Walker and fight you instead, hmm?"

"Leave the girl be. That fire will serve her well against Gabriel."

Beside Amora stood the lovely Medusa, whose bout was next in line after Thor's. Her titanically lengthy red hair was twisted neatly behind her, flicking gently from side to side like a cat's tail.

"Oh, my," Fandral said, entranced by the strange woman's exotic beauty. "She's even lovelier up close."

"Medusalith Amaquelin Boltagon from the Royal Family of the Inhumans of Attilan in Midgard," Sif said by way of introduction, recalling what Loki had told her. She was indeed a lovely woman and her eyes were mesmerized by Medusalith's mass of _moving_ red hair.

"You may call me Medusa. It's simpler. My full name's quite a mouthful," she replied and tittered softly.

"Your opponent, Farbauti, is a powerful giant from Jotunheim, Lady Medusa. Do take care," Sif said cordially, “Loki speaks quite fondly of you.

"You are a friend of Odin All-Father's dark-haired son?" Medusa asked with interest. "What a charming young man. I must thank him personally for his gift at the feast tonight. He sent me the most wonderful bouquet of sweetly scented flowers this morning."

_Did he, now?_ Sif forced herself to smile, angry that an irrational jealously flared inside her. "Yes, I'm acquainted with Loki. Thor’s younger brother is part of our company."

As The Warriors Three introduced themselves to Medusa, Sif turned toward Thor's battle with Hrimgrimnir, Amora sidling up to her.

"It seems Medusa's not the only one charmed by Odin's dark-haired son," Amora remarked knowingly.

"Oh, please, Loki’s just my practice dummy," Sif replied with a snicker.

"I _dare_ you to say those words to him," the Enchantress whispered.

"Cease your baiting, witch. I do nothing for your amusement," Sif hissed back.

"Perhaps, someday, when you've learned how to better defend yourself against a magic-wielding opponent, I'd like the privilege of facing you in combat," Amora suggested. When Sif remained silent, she grinned. "Think about it."

Turning her head briefly to glance at the Enchantress, Sif frowned and openly glared at the blonde sorceress as she giggled, retreating to a bench some distance away.

Outside, in the melee-circle, Thor's anger gave him the endurance to withstand the brutal punishment that was being dealt to his body by the ancient Helheim frost-thurse. What little ground he gained to slow Hrimgrimnir down was thrown back at him threefold by the giant's well-placed punches and kicks.

Struggling to get to his feet, Thor leaned heavily on his sword, his mind in turmoil as he desperately tried to find a way to, at the very _least_ , knock his opponent down. Without meaning to, his vivid blue eyes wandered up toward his dark-haired brother who was leaning against the stone railing of their private seating block looking down at him with sad, green eyes. His gaze softened, knowing that Loki was a much better strategist in battle whenever circumstances were incredibly dire. His eyes then swept downward, finding the faces of Sif and The Warriors Three as they stared anxiously at him from the shadows of the staging area's observation platform.

"He's done," Fandral said softly, clenching his fists. "At least he’ll down fighting."

"Oh, Thor," Sif whispered sadly. It pained her to see him so hurt.

Feeling a sliver of hope by drawing strength from his friends and family, Thor grunted as he lifted his sword, preparing to unleash his final attack before his injuries got the best of him. Sheathing his sword behind his back, Thor smiled, released a loud battle-cry and lunged at the grinning frost-thurse using the last remnants of his strength. Though he wouldn't earn a title that day, he felt good knowing that he fought with every ounce of determination he had against his opponent.

As he ran toward Hrimgrimnir, everything around him seemed to slow to a stop. He saw the giant's hand coming toward him, aimed to grab his head. He ducked instantly, sliding his body underneath the giant's fingers, letting his momentum propel him till he slipped past the giant's legs. Once behind his opponent, he turned his head, pivoting his body quickly and clambering up the giant's back like a spider till his feet rested on the giant's shoulders. Before Hrimgrimnir could grab him, he executed a mighty flip and twist, drawing his enchanted sword in midair and slicing a deep gash down the length of the frost-thurse's back.

Thor landed hard on the ground with a heavy thud and a grunt of pain. He was barely aware of the momentous clamor of cheering spectators that echoed throughout the colosseum or of Hrimgrimnir who had fallen to his knees in pain from the damage to his back.

"Well, done, Thor," Odin said softly, smiling with pride along with Frigga. Glancing toward the farthest corner of the seating block, even with his back turned dramatically away from them, Loki's smile of support was visible.

Standing to his feet, Hrimgrimnir glanced at the All-Father who nodded subtly, then at the blond-haired boy, Thor, who was partly conscious and being swarmed by a small band of his friends. Looking briefly with indifference at the wildly cheering crowd, he left the melee-circle, the long gash on his back already healing itself.

Once Thor's wounded body was taken away to the Tournament Healing Room where Eir was stationed, Medusa prepared herself for her bout with her Jotun opponent, Farbauti.

In the royal seating block of the All-Father and his familiy, Loki sensed a spike of tension from his parents. When he glanced at them, however, their expressions were neutral and he guessed that they were merely worried for Thor's sustained injuries.

The instant their son's face had turned away from them, Odin and Frigga exchanged loaded glances. Above them, Huginn and Muninn turned their heads to look at them in unison, the pair of ravens instantly shielding their conversation from anyone that might hear it.

"Is it wise to allow Farbauti to participate?" Frigga whispered to Odin quietly.

"I cannot ban anyone from entering the Tournament," Odin replied softly. "It would raise unwanted suspicion. I believe...that Farbauti is here as a messenger...to bring word back to Laufey of Loki’s well-being, nothing more."

Leaning casually against the stone rail of their private seating block, Loki smiled as Medusa, entered the melee-circle accompanied by her Jotun opponent, Farbauti. For a woman of Midgard, she was exotic and unique, possessing a bizarre fighting style that made use of her strong, ever-changing strands of unbelievably dextrous hair.

When he looked at Farbauti, Loki went rigid. The red-haired, broad shouldered, blue-skinned, nine-foot Jotun was pointedly starting at him with an odd expression. Beside him, Freki growled softly.

_I've read about this Jotun,_ Loki thought to himself. _He’s Chief of the Lightning Clan from Jarnvidur or better known as the Iron Wood of Jotunheim. His name means 'Hard-Striker' or 'Cruel-Striker.' It's written that he has strong fire-etin blood, is hot-tempered, strong and relentless, with abilities that are somewhat similar to Thor's and some yet undocumented. He may prove to be a very difficult opponent for Medusa. And...why does he stare at me like that?_

As if reluctant to break eye-contact, Farbauti slowly faced his opponent, a strange woman from Midgard with an abundance of unusual, _living_ red hair.

"Mighty Odin, a word, if I may," the flame-haired Jotun spoke out with a clear, commanding voice.

"You may speak, Farbauti," Odin replied.

"I mean no disrespect to my opponent, Medusalith Amaquelin Boltagon from the Royal Family of the Inhumans of Attilan in Midgard. My deepest apologies, but I must forfeit this match."

Startled gasps and noises of protest swept the colosseum. When the All-Father's hand raised to call for silence, the audience's upheaval quieted instantly.

"Your reason for forgoing the match?" Odin asked patiently.

"I have an old injury that hasn't properly healed,” Farbauti said with a bow, glancing at Loki, ”to mend my wound, I must return to Jotunheim.

"Very well," Odin nodded. "You may take your leave when you are ready, Farbauti. Send my greetings to your King."

"I will," Farbauti nodded curtly, glancing again at Loki, then turning to bow low to his opponent who returned the gesture.

Concealing her disappointment, Medusa watched her opponent leave the melee-circle. Murmurs and whispers swelled among the spectators.

"This is most unfortunate, my dear," Odin said, addressing Medusa. "Do you wish to continue in the Tournament if a new opponent comes forth?"

"Yes, I do," Medusa replied firmly.

“Very well. Is there someone in the staging area who wishes to engage Medusalith in combat?" Odin asked.

_”I_ will be Medusalith's opponent," Loki declared loudly, seeing every head in the colosseum turn to look at him with mixed reactions. He imagined the shocked faces of Sif and The Warriors Three as he smiled to himself. Freki barked in protest.

"Loki, you are still Bound," Frigga whispered sharply. She felt her husband's hand on hers. Above them, Huginn and Muninn flapped their wings in agitation.

"I know, Mother, but I can still fight," Loki replied confidently, glancing at his father. He stilled a restless Freki with a pat to the head.

"Medusalith Amaquelin Boltagon. My son, Loki, wishes to face you in combat. Do you accept his challenge?"

"I do," Medusa declared with a bright smile, delighted by the unexpected turn of events. She was curious and eager to see how the young, dark-haired sorcerer would handle himself, especially after Amora had overheard rumors of Loki being temporarily unable to use his magic.

"Excuse me, I must ready myself," Loki said as he nodded to his parents, quickly leaving their private seating block while Freki whined anxiously behind him.

As Frigga worriedly watched Loki depart, a Valkyrie General in shining silver armor appeared quietly beside Odin. She had a squarish face with stern but attractive features, wolfish icy-blue eyes, fair skin and a tightly woven plait of platinum-blonde draped over one shoulder. No longer laying on the floor was Geri, who stood beside her, wagging his tail.

"Hildr, see to it that Loki has everything he needs."

"Yes, All-Father," Hildr replied softly and faded into the shadows.

Ignoring the stares of everyone around him as he ran past them toward the staging area, Loki sprinted straight for the nearest armory. Without his magic, he had to make do with piecing together a makeshift outfit from whatever was available.

"Master Loki."

He skidded to a halt at the sound of his name.

"Hildr."

The platinum-blonde Valkyrie General stood leaning against a corner wall beside the armory room door.

"I was told to give you these," she offered, presenting Loki with a thin cuirass of Duergar dark-metal and a matching sword, both covered in runic symbols.

"Tell Father that his help is appreciated but not needed," Loki replied. "Too much metal is cumbersome for me. My ceremonial leathers will have to do." He turned around, gathering his dark strands in a loose heap. "Help me with my hair?"

Hildr made quick work of Loki's ebony tresses, weaving it expertly with her fingers and looping the finished braid at the base of his neck. It amazed her how soft and smooth Loki's hair was to the touch. He had the hair of a pampered young maiden instead of hair belonging to an adventurous young _male_ sorcerer. This trait and his deliberate style of wearing it set him apart; the citizens of Asgard seeing Odin's dark-haired son as an amusing _oddity_ and he was the brunt of much gossip.

"I will now require the use of your staff, Hildr." He grinned when her eyes widened at his request. "Fear not, I've used it many times before today," he added smugly, holding out his right hand.

Though Valkyries were widely known to be adept in many forms of combat using different types of weaponry, what wasn't common knowledge was that each of them had crafted their own special battle weapons to be used at the advent of Ragnarok. These special weapons were very powerful and individually unique which the Valkyries concealed from view until unleashed in battle. Having no need for them within Asgard's walls, the Valkyries hid them carefully to prevent these special weapons from being misused.

However, a certain Mischief Maker found one by 'accident' during a methodical search of a Valkyrie's private chamber and attempted to use it, causing destructive mayhem on the practice grounds of Valhalla. Ever since that incident, the Valkyries took _extra_ care, making sure their special battle weapons remained hidden.

Narrowing her eyes, Hildr's face hardened. Apparently, the Valkyries had to have _another_ important gathering concerning the security of their special battle weaponry.

Reluctantly, she reached behind her back, surrendering her special personal weapon. It was made of Duergar dark-metal, an inch and a quarter in diameter and twelve inches in length. It was elegantly simple, polished, with no markings of any kind.

"Thank you, Hildr. Among the Valkyries, your staff's my favorite, by far," Loki divulged with a grin and a wink, then sprinted quickly toward the staging area.

Silently fuming, Hildr stared at the retreating form of the All-Father's enigmatic and _problematic_ dark-haired son.

The minute Loki entered the staging area, Sif and The Warriors Three swarmed around him in protest.

"Have you truly lost your mind?" Volstagg laughed merrily.

"You're being reckless," Hogun admonished.

"Have you been drained of every ounce of sensibility? You're not even properly dressed!" Sif scolded loudly when she ran to meet him.

"Your concern is duly noted,” Loki replied, walking past the Warrior’s Three but paused to look at Sif. “I'm rather offended that you think so little of me," he said in reaction, making last minute adjustments to his leathers. He removed the outer layer which was a long decorated vest.

"What have you got there?" Fandral asked curiously, his eyes fixed on the object in Loki's right hand.

"Hildr's staff," he replied with a cheeky grin, walking briskly toward the staging area's entrance to the melee-circle.

Sif and The Warriors Three stared at each other in disbelief, the four of them stopping at a threshold of the arena where they could no longer follow. They watched as Loki took his spot across from Medusa, the pair bowing to one another as the colosseum's crowd cheered loudly.

The sound of a ruckus behind them prompted Sif and The Warriors Three to turn around and they were surprised to see a heavily bandaged Thor limping determinedly toward them. Eir the Healer walked beside him silently with a very displeased expression.

"What are _you_ doing out of bed?" Sif rushed to Thor, aiding him along with Hogun.

"Is it true? Is Loki out there?" Thor said with effort.

"Oh, yes. he's definitely out there," Fandral answered, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

"Loki faces the Midgard Inhuman, Medusalith," Hogun stated.

"The idiot means to fight her wearing _ceremonial_ leathers," Sif said angrily.

"He also claims to have Hildr's staff to use as a weapon," Volstagg added with delight, shaking his head.

“ _What?_ Let me see," Thor insisted impatiently as they helped him to a viewing box in the staging area.

Eir's handmaidens arrived with a comfortable chair for Thor to sit on as he stared transfixed at Loki who was crouched in a ready stance to face his opponent.

"Why did Father and Mother allow this?" Thor said softly with concern, glancing toward their family's private seating block, then back at his brother who had dodged Medusa's first strike.

"You're nimble," Medusa said with a smile, pulling back a portion of her voluminous red hair which was shaped like a bludgeon. "Oh, and how did you put it? ‘You didn't have the ridiculous need to prove yourself to anyone, least of all to a large, screaming crowd of unruly spectators?’,” she added, repeating what he had told their little group when they first met.

"The only person I need to impress is myself," Loki replied with a grin, rolling away from another attack.

"That goes without saying," Medusa giggled, flinging her hair forward for a double-strike which he avoided easily. "Is it true you've been temporarily denied use of your magic?" She asked her question while simultaneously attacking.

"So...you heard about that," Loki said as he moved aside, Medusa's bludgeon-shaped hair narrowly missing his face as it swung past his cheek. "That was a good swing."

"You can't avoid me forever," Medusa called out, splitting her hair into eight separate sections, each shaped like a different weapon.

"I don't plan to," Loki answered, his fingers clutching Hildr's staff tightly.

"Here I go," Medusa said with a grin.

All eight sections of her hair flew forward menacingly, attacking from different directions to overwhelm her opponent. To Medusa's surprise, Loki's harmless looking 'baton' expanded to a towering height, vaulting him out of her reach and decreasing in length to just below chest height. He then twirled the staff briefly before tucking it behind him, resuming a ready stance.

Quirking a brow, Medusa merged her hair into a large rippling mass as she slowly approached the young sorcerer, who warily backed away.

"Like I said, you can't avoid me forever."

Instantly, Medusa's hair surged forward in one tremendous wave.

With seconds to act, Loki smashed a tip of Hildr's staff to the ground which seemed to ignite it and swung the staff in a wide arc at the approaching wave of red. The bright trail left behind solidified into an impressively sized scythe that was sharp enough to cut away Medusa's attacking wave of hair, the clumps falling lifeless to the ground.

The colosseum's audience exploded around them in thunderous approval and applause.

"I had no idea Loki could fight like that," Fandral declared in admiration. "Especially without the use of his magic."

"Using Hildr's staff no less," Hogun added with approval.

"Wonder what else that staff can do," Volstagg curiously mused out loud.

Thor and Sif remained silent, the pair staring at Loki with guarded apprehension, unsure of how much longer the young sorcerer could defend himself against Medusa's bizarre fighting style.

"His speed is his advantage, but if he's caught..." Sif remarked, leaving the rest unsaid.

"I was lucky enough to spy on the Valkyrie Generals in mock battle on the outskirts of Asgard. I've seen what their special weapons can do. They're dangerous and very powerful. Loki may claim to know how to use that staff, but I'm sure only Hildr knows the secret to unlocking its full potential," Thor stated in a moment of insight. "Loki's strength is in his magic. It's as much a part of him as battle is in our blood...but I'll never understand his stubborn need to constantly overcompensate for his shortcomings to the point where it endangers his life."

"Some see Loki's actions as courageous while others call them reckless and stupid," Fandral remarked with a shrug. "I suppose it depends on who's watching."

Thor, Sif and The Warriors Three glanced briefly toward the All-Father's seating block before returning their attention to the melee-ring.

"Seems you're entirely dependent on that enchanted weapon you've chosen," Medusa stated, gazing at the severed strands of her hair on the ground that had turned ashen grey. "What I need to do is simple then." Her red hair swirled around her like churning water, the strands that were cut had regrown instantly. "I'll have to take that weapon away from you."

What followed were a series of relentless attacks aimed at disarming the young sorcerer. Loki's speed kept him out of harms way but Medusa proved to be highly adaptable, changing her tactics to quickly match his movements.

_I can't risk physically grappling with her_ , Loki mulled over as he began to struggle against Medusa's endless sea of hair. She was especially careful this time, successfully avoiding his attempts to cut off any more of her red strands. Like a multiple-armed beast, she advanced on him slowly, increasingly gaining ground, hoping to trap him at the melee-circle's perimeter. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Tapping the bare end of Hildr's staff with his palm made the scythe-blade vanish as he spun it to a horizontal position. Swiftly moving his hands together to the center, he slid his grip to a measured distance, five fists apart. Gripping the staff firmly, he twisted and pulled outward, splitting the staff into three sections. Once Medusa's hair was within reach, Loki's hands migrated instantly to the staff's midsection as the rest of the weapon's dark-metal softened and changed to slender whips, the tendrils of energy weaving into a substantial amount of his opponent's red hair.

Pulling back only tightened their grip and Medusa saw Loki's smile before a strong current of energy traveled along the whips attached to her hair, crackling straight to her body, making her scream in pain.

Cringing, Loki released her with a jerk of the baton, the whips of dark-metal retreating from Medusa's hair as he watched her crumple. Shaking the weapon briefly in his hands reformed the staff as he cautiously neared a disoriented Medusa who laid on the ground, her body spasm-ing helplessly. Steam rose from her hair which fanned out limply in rays of red all around her.

"I'm truly sorry," Loki called out. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to use that on you."

"Mnnnh," she moaned through clenched teeth.

Medusa was still conscious but appeared hurt.

Seizing his chance, Loki sprinted toward her and placed one end of Hildr's staff against her neck.

"Do you yield?"

"Nnnnggghhh," she moaned again, her lips stiffly trying to speak.

"What was that?" Loki said, bending closer to listen.

"Ynngh...nnn...nnoht yyeht..."

Loki gasped in surprise when an undamaged portion of Medusa's hair wrapped itself around his throat, squeezing mercilessly and lifting him off his feet. Dropping Hildr's staff, his hands struggled to loosen the strong red strands that seemed ready to snap his neck.

"Do...you...yield...boy?" Medusa rasped, still laying on the ground as her hair lifted Loki higher.

"...n-neh...nehverh..." he replied with a strangled gurgle.

The colosseum's audience had an outburst of mixed reactions at the scene before them. Some made noises of distress, others were tense and silent, while a few cheered Medusa on.

"Yield, Brother! What are you waiting for?" Thor shouted from the staging area's viewing box. He nearly leapt from his chair if it weren't for Eir's firm hand on his shoulder.

"He's going to pass out," Sif said worriedly.

"I think he _prefers_ to pass out," Fandral exclaimed, his brow creased.

"Yield...or I...snap your neck," Medusa threatened with a hiss, slightly loosening her hold on her opponent so he could talk.

"I...never doubted...that...you wouldn't," Loki labored to say through his constricted throat. His eyes found Hildr's staff on the ground below him, but it was too far for him to reach...unless...

He had seen Hildr call the staff to her hand from a distance before, however, it was _her_ weapon and responded to her will completely. In his many attempts to try and decipher the staff's secrets...he had sensed...something. The weapon's own will? He wanted to at least _try_ the long-shot before he lost consciousness.

_Come on, now_ , Loki mentally pleaded to Hildr's staff. _Fly to my hand...please...if only now...just this once…_

He began feeling dizzy. Soon, he would lose what little air he had left in his lungs and succumb to unconsciousness.

Reaching out his hand in a last desperate attempt, he willed his mind to be empty of all things except his call to Hildr's staff.

_We shall see...if the days of meditation...I spent with you, Hogun...were worth it._

Expending the final remnant of air in his lungs, he closed his eyes and repeatedly called out for Hildr's staff in the most single-minded focus he could muster.

Just when Loki was on the verge of passing out, he felt the weight of warm, smooth metal in his right hand! His eyes flew open and though the staff had reduced itself in length to the size of a baton, it didn't matter. A quick circle of his thumb turned one smooth end into a blade and he used it to slice himself free.

"Aaah!" Loki yelped when he fell hard to the ground, his back and his head absorbing most of the impact. He gasped loudly, drawing in heaving breaths of air through his mouth, his fingers quickly tearing away the limp strands of Medusa's severed hair from his throat. As he lay on the ground panting, his vision grew hazier and his ears were muffled. Disoriented, he was unsure of the noise he was hearing.

Was that...the sound of cheering?

Through the throbbing pain from his back and head, he felt hands on his body and the sensation of being lifted up and carried away before his eyelids slid shut.

Frigga sighed as she relaxed the tense fingers on her lap, relieved that Loki's match was over but feeling distraught over it nevertheless. Seated beside her and smiling proudly, Odin was affectionately pleased by his dark-haired son's valiant display of courage.

In a remote section of the staging area, Eir tended to Loki's semi-conscious form.

"Breathe deeply," she instructed, passing a tiny golden bowl of smoldering herbs near his nose.

When Loki obeyed, his mind and body were jolted to moderate alertness.

"Ooooohhh..."

"You gave us quite a show out there, you magic-wielding fiend," Fandral teased, helping Thor's younger brother up slowly.

"Is...Medusa," Loki rasped, looking around with concern, ignoring the throbbing ache of his head. He was laid on a bench padded with soft fur that he realized was Fandral's fox cloak. "Is she badly injured?"

"Medusalith's wounds are not severe," Eir stated. "You may soon visit her in the Healing Room."

"Wait...isn't it Sif's turn out there?" Loki said, swinging his legs over to touch the ground. When he tried to stand, a sharp pain traveled up from his right ankle and he winced.

"You sprained it, so try not to put too much weight on it yet," Eir cautioned.

"I'll escort him, Healer. Leave Loki to me," Fandral offered.

"Very well. I have other wounded to tend to," Eir replied and left the staging area.

Using Fandral as a cane, Loki hobbled slowly toward the viewing box where a soft chair beside Thor was waiting for him. Like sentries, Volstagg and Hogun stood nearby and Eir had most likely assigned them to the task of preventing his older brother from moving around unnecessarily.

With assistance from Fandral, Loki eased himself down into his chair. Thor wasn't looking at him, staring instead toward the melee-circle where Sif took her place across from her opponent, Air-Walker.

Fidgeting in his chair, Loki sat up straight and tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence, his eyes flitting back and forth between his brother and Sif. Behind them, The Warriors Three had secretly made bets to see which of the two brothers would speak first. Loki was the logical choice, his reckless actions in the Plain of Vigrid had angered his brother greatly, but Fandral was a betting man and hoped that the initial words would be Thor's.

In the melee-circle, Sif had begun attacking her opponent who calmly and effortlessly blocked her strikes. Air-Walker had been the same in every match, confident but with a neural expression, displaying a level of strength that defied his mortal stature. He had faced the best of the Einherjar and the Valkyries without a single scratch!

_This may be a difficult match for Sif_ , Loki thought apprehensively, his fingers twisting an edge of his leather sleeve.

"I do not understand the movements of that mortal," Thor observed. "They almost seem..."

"Unnatural," Loki finished, glancing at his brother, who nodded in agreement.

When Air-Walker went on the offensive, Sif managed to defend herself, although barely, but with every push back, her spirits only soared.

After a few expert lunges with her double swords, Sif grinned and connected her swords together, the colosseum's crowd reacting with wild excitement.

In the staging area's observation box, Loki stifled a beaming smile of pride as he gazed at the shocked faces of Thor and The Warriors Three.

"Where did she _get_ that weapon?" Thor declared loudly.

"Look how she handles herself," Hogun said in admiration.

"I've never see her like this," Fandral remarked in amazement.

Volstagg whooped in delight. "Go, Sif!"

"Magnificent, isn't she?" Loki said, a bit breathless. Thor glanced at him sharply.

"You _knew_ about this," Thor said accusingly, narrowing his eyes.

"Knew about what?" Loki replied innocently, looking steadily at his brother.

“We shall talk about it later. For now, let's make sure Sif hears her friends' cries of encouragement over the crowd out there," Thor said with a grin, resting his left hand on his dark-haired brother's right forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. Loki smiled slightly.

Behind Thor and Loki, Fandral nudged both his companions with a triumphant gleam in his eyes and a wide smile, his hands held outward in a gesture that clearly said, 'I won the bet. Now pay up.' Volstagg and Hogun frowned, knowing they were in his debt for a favor---no matter how frivolous or embarrassing---that Fandral could collect from them at any time.

"What interesting friends our sons have," Odin said with a smile as he watched the warrior-maiden Sif dance around her opponent with her new weapon.

"Yes, they suit each other well for the trials they must face," Frigga said knowingly. She stared in Loki's direction, sitting beside his brother under the shadow of the staging area's observation box. "I pray that the Fates be kind to both our sons."

Sif heard the cheers of her friends over the roaring crowd, her attacks fast and relentless, heeding Loki's advice concerning her opponent Gabriel. Air-Walker appeared confused, having detected no logical pattern to her methods---which was exactly how Sif wanted it.

In a moment of opportunity, Sif saw an opening in Air-Walker's defenses and she took it, slashing downward with all her might, leaving a nice, deep gash down the side of Gabriel's left arm from shoulder to elbow...but instead of blood and bone, what she _saw_ almost made her stumble and yelp in fright.

"What...what _is_ he?" Sif whispered in horror, her wide eyes gawking at multiple flashes of light that coursed through veins of metal.

"He's a… _robot!_ ” Loki shouted in surprise, stating the unknown word out loud.

"What in Hel's Hall is a 'row-butt?'" Fandral said, trying to repeat what he heard.

"I came across the word and its definition reading journals on more advanced civilizations from Midgard," Loki explained. "On certain worlds, mortals developed a method of study to understand the workings of their environment and call it Science. Technology is a collective word used to describe the results of their explorations and tinkering with this Science. A robot is an artificial construct borne from their Technology and Science, and made to resemble a living being. Gabriel Lan is no mortal made of flesh and blood, but a robot. Though he walks, talks and behaves like a living being, he's _not_ considered to be truly alive."

"How is such an abomination even _possible?_ “ Thor asked in outrage. "What sort of mad sorcery do the mortals possess to create such a thing?"

"Obviously, Brother, the kind of sorcery we have no need of," Loki replied. "I myself have no intimate knowledge of mortal technology...especially of a level this complex." He stared in fascination at Air-Walker who resumed defending himself against a more determined Sif. "However, I would like the chance to tear him apart and find out."

"I've considered that option in the past, but I've come to know Gabriel over time and that very thought repels me now," Amora replied in their midst, leaning her arms on the back of Loki's chair. She smiled when the group of young men jerked in reaction to her sudden appearance, The Warriors Three backing slightly away from her.

"You have a nasty habit of doing that, Enchantress," Loki said irritably.

"Had you full use of your magic, Loki Odinson, you would have detected my presence long before I arrived," Amora answered with a grin.

"So, _you_ are Amora the Enchantress," Thor said, eyeing the attractive blonde warily. He glanced at Loki who looked away. "Both of you have met before?"

"Only recently, Firstborn of the All-Father," Amora said, nodding her head in acknowledgment of Thor's station. "Quite by accident," she added knowingly.

Loki audibly cleared his throat as he stared pointedly at Sif who had developed her own unique rhythm with her weapon, inflicting numerous gashes on Air-Walker's bare 'skin.' How was Sif supposed to defeat a robot that doesn't tire or bleed? At least he now knew the answer to why Gabriel had felt so strange to him. It also intrigued him greatly that Air-Walker was created to mimic life itself!

"I think Gabriel's done toying with your friend," Amora observed with a snicker.

Air-Walker stood still, balling his hands into fists which started to glow. Aiming his bright hands at Sif, twin bolts of energy erupted from them, flying straight at his opponent. Blocking the twin beams of light with her enchanted shield, the energy bolts ricocheted of the metal and were absorbed into the melee-circle's protective spell-wall.

Instead of Air-Walker's new tactic becoming a deterrent, Sif used Gabriel's energy bolts to her advantage, deflecting them just right so that they were repelled back at _him_ , forcing her opponent to defend himself against his own attacks.

The crowd's excitement built to a fevered pitched as Sif ran full tilt toward her opponent while he was momentarily distracted by his own energy bolts, she vaulted herself into the air, and with a fierce battle cry, sailed over Air-Walker, plunging her bladed staff clean through his right shoulder, her body's momentum pinning him to the ground with a thud. She then quickly jumped off him, tumbling deftly some distance away.

Thor cheered the loudest, hollering victoriously along with The Warriors Three and the crowded colosseum, some standing in jubilant ovation.

After a while, Gabriel stood to his feet, removing Sif's double-bladed weapon from his shoulder, returning it to her with a smile and a bow, thus conceding to her victory.

"See you lads at the feast tonight," Amora said with a wink, pulling up her long, arm-length gloves and swaying her hips from side to side in an exaggerated manner as she left the observation box toward the melee-circle. Thor and The Warriors Three glanced at her retreat with some appreciation, Loki merely lifted a brow, clearly unimpressed.

Sif arrived from her match, sweaty, disheveled and bruised, but her face shone brightly with the happiness of her accomplishment. She would no longer be criticized as a mere maiden dallying in warfare as a whimsical or misguided decision of youth. Her exemplary performance in the Tournament had dispelled any remaining doubts to the residents of Asgard concerning her commitment to her chosen path as a warrior.

Thor, despite his many injuries, leapt from his seat and gave Sif a tight hug which she returned with equal fervor, the pair going further---to everyone's surprise---by a sharing a very spontaneous kiss. The pair blushed when they parted, Sif turning away to embrace each of The Warriors Three, playfully batting away Fandral who tried his best to steal his own kiss. When Sif turned to Loki, the two gazed at each other momentarily before reaching out for an awkward hug.

"If that woman wasn't so untrustworthy, she make quite a catch," Fandral mused out loud, watching Amora the Enchantress saunter to the middle of the coliseum's melee-circle and casually fluffed her hair without a care in the world.

"For _any_ man, I believe the risk would be too great," Hogun stated.

"I'd like to fight her in the next Tournament," Loki announced with conviction, his mind already skimming through a study plan he needed to improve his skills.

"That match alone should draw in _double_ the amount of spectators," Fandral piped up with a laugh. "Also, I have a strong feeling that the All-Father may need to reinforce the spell-wall."

"No doubt," Sif muttered, glancing at Loki with some jealously when she noted how focused he was as he stared at the Enchantress.

"That woman has an aura of trouble and it’s best we stay away from her," Thor warned, gazing at Loki who wasn't listening to them, his full concentration snared by the roguish blonde sorceress. 

During the course of Amora’s battle, Loki tried his best to hide a smile of admiration.

There was an interval of a few hours before the Tournament's Grand Feast which was to be ceremonially initiated within the Hall of Gladsheim, the merrymaking progressively scattering outward to the many smaller halls around Asgard.

The Warriors Three and Sif accompanied the brothers to Eir's Healing Room where Loki visited a recuperating Medusa. The friends then parted ways temporarily after that, with Thor needing to spend some time alone with his younger brother.

Retreating to Fensalir, where the secluded, peaceful sanctuary of a hot spring was made exclusively for their family, Thor and Loki, both completely naked, eased themselves into the special bubbling water that their Mother and Eir the Healer prepared for them to accelerate the healing of their bodies' injuries.

Wincing as the hot, medicinal-herb treated water stung his wounds, Thor shifted as he leaned against a large, smooth rock located in the middle of the steaming pool where it was shallower and closed his eyes. He already unwrapped most of his bandages, leaving a few of the deeper gashes covered.

Using a linen cloth draped over his arm, Loki sat on the folded fabric after he hopped out and onto a smoothed Birch ledge by the steaming spring, taking a few moments to examine his ankle.

"Your back's covered in bruises," Thor said with a slight frown, counting a total of ten grayish-purple splotches of various sizes on his brother's normally unblemished skin.

"It's nothing," Loki replied, gingerly rotating his right foot with a slight groan. "You received more injuries that I did," he amended, his gaze gliding along the many deep scrapes and scratches on his brother's body. Slipping back into the hot, soothing waters, he waded toward the center where his brother had settled comfortably.

"My wounds will heal by tomorrow afternoon," Thor replied lazily, his body thoroughly relaxed, his eyelids heavy.

"Don't fall asleep or you'll drown," Loki teased, his brother grunting dismissively.

Noticing the knotted mess of his brother's hair, Loki shook his head, retrieving an ivory comb from a recess carved into the large rock that Thor was leaning against. Placing the comb between his teeth, he loosened Hildr's knots to his own hair with his dextrous fingers. Once free of the plait, the ebony mass fell loosely around him in a wavy veil.

"You look like a girl," Thor drawled.

"So I've been told _many_ times," Loki replied casually, running the comb down the length of his hair which he placed over one shoulder.

"Your hair's even prettier than Sif's," Thor snorted with a chuckle. _Especially now that she’s cut it all off._

"She'll murder us both quite horribly if she ever heard _that_. You for saying it…and me for having it," Loki grinned, chuckling softy when Thor guffawed loudly.

"Oho...ooh," the blond groaned, clutching his aching stomach. "You never fail to make me laugh, Brother."

"I do my best," Loki said, rolling his eyes. "Here, now it's your turn. Your hair is absolutely horrendous. I'm tired of seeing how tangled it is."

"Good luck. Even Mother's given up on it," Thor replied. He gave Loki full access to his hair by shifting where he sat and turning to his right, crossing his legs comfortably under the water. "Mine's not even half as long as yours and I'm beginning to suspect it has a mind of its own."

"It just needs to be brushed more often," Loki advised, moving to sit behind Thor. He began by untying the red leather thong that held the top half of his brother's hair away from his face. Flicking away the piece of leather with his fingers, it landed on the shore with a soft plop. "I have to use a special lotion to smoothen this mess. Do you mind?"

"Do what you must," Thor answered unconcernedly, his eyes sliding shut.

Reaching into the alcove of the rock, Loki removed a small, jeweled, blue bottle. Pouring a generous amount of the scented oil into his hands, he thoroughly rubbed the clear liquid into Thor's knotted hair, patiently loosening the many tangled strands with his fingers.

"At least it doesn't smell like flowers," Thor remarked.

"That's because I used Father's lotion. If I'd used Mother's on you, you'd be smelling sweeter than Freya strolling in her spring garden...for _days_ ,” Loki chuckled, running the ivory comb down his brother's, now very cooperative, blond mane.

"Why didn't you then?" Thor asked lightly but Loki stayed quiet.

For several minutes, the pair sat in silence, Loki combing Thor's hair in an almost meditative fashion, his expression sad.

"You fought bravely today," Thor said softly. The combing motion stopped. "It's quite a feat, _especially_ since Mother's denied you the use of your magic."

"You fought bravely as well," Loki replied quietly. "Hrimgrimnir was quite a challenge...even for Father."

"You know about that?"

"I...overheard Father talking to Tyr."

"Oh," Thor said, then added slyly, "Do you _always_ eavesdrop on Father?"

"Only when I'm curious about something," Loki admitted. "The hardest part is not getting caught. Between Huginn, Muninn, Geri and Freki, it's almost impossible."

"The few times you get away with it is incredible enough," Thor laughed, feeling the comb as it resumed gliding along his hair. After a long while, he said, "I still can't believe you took Sif into Vigrid, Brother."

Sighing, Loki stopped altogether and toyed with the ivory comb in his hands.

"I can't believe I did it either."

Turning around to face his brother, Thor stared sternly at him, Loki refusing to meet his gaze. "Tell me, Brother, how many times have you ventured into Vigrid… _alone?_ "

"Ever since the day I found out I could," Loki answered calmly, lifting his head.

"Heimdall also would have known and _should_ have warned someone," Thor said angrily. "To think that our Gatekeeper permitted you to---"

"I _chose_ to go into Vigrid, Thor, just as it was Sif's decision to enter the plain _with_ me," Loki said pertinently. "I know that I risk death every time I enter Vigrid...but when I weigh that risk against the invaluable lessons I've _learned_..." He paused, glancing down at the comb in his hands and continued, "and yes, knowing our station, I am aware that I should set a better example." He looked up and stared sincerely into Thor's angry blue eyes. “Though, more importantly, I would _never_ have allowed Sif into Vigrid if I knew she couldn't handle herself there." He shrugged. "The Tournament meant so much to her and I wanted to help, so I couldn't refuse her when she asked me. Had you been in my place, you would've done the same."

Thor sighed heavily. His brother always had a logical, ironclad speech whenever they argued. It was one of the reasons he couldn't sustain being angry with Loki for too long.

"You're right," Thor conceded, scratching the back of his blond head. "I would not have been able to refuse her either."

"Vigrid is a magic-wielder's paradise," Loki stated. "I've learned far more about myself in that place _alone_ than I ever have sparring with you, Tyr, the Einherjar, the Valkyries, Sif or The Warriors Three." He returned the ivory comb he held into the rock's alcove which was within arms reach. Promptly, his body went rigid in surprise when Thor's hand firmly grabbed his left wrist, pulling him closer.

"Forgive my anger, Brother, and the harsh words I spoke to you in the Healing Room," Thor said, his voice heavy with emotion. He touched his forehead to Loki's, his hands on either side of his brother's face as they stared into each other's eyes. "The thought of ever losing you forever...it drives me mad."

"I know," Loki said softly, moved by his brother's words, his eyes now wet with tears. His hands moved to tightly grasp Thor's wrists. "I know I’m impulsive and careless sometimes. I don’t intend to hurt anyone with my actions...I just..."

“I too am to blame. I forget how _different_ you truly are from everyone else," Thor replied, smiling brightly when he sat up straight. "I just need to be reminded of that from time to time." Grinning, he playfully rumpled the hair on his brother's head with an affectionate rub.

"Thor!" Loki cried out in mild annoyance, but his green eyes were happy.

"Here, let me fix it," Thor offered, grabbing the ivory comb from within the rock's alcove.

Loki eyed his brother warily before he conceded, turning around in the water. He felt the comb gliding through his hair repeatedly in measured strokes, the rhythm lulling him into a feeling of contentment. Relishing the moment, he knew treasured instances like these rarely lasted.

"Like tending to a sister," Thor grinned giddily, laughing when Loki made an exasperated noise. As he continued to comb his brother's ridiculously long, black hair, his eyes caught a glint of something tucked in the rock's alcove.

With an impish gleam in his vivid blue eyes, Thor reached for their Mother's pink, jeweled bottle, surreptitiously placing a few droplets of its contents on the teeth of the ivory comb. Laughing to himself, Thor continued to comb Loki’s hair knowing that the sweet scent of their Mother’s perfumed oil would take its full effect tomorrow morning.

  


### End of Story 01

**Author's Note:**

Loki and Thor are both age '18', Sif is '19' while Fandral the Fair, Volstagg the Voluminous and Hogun the Grim are all '21' in this chapter. Amora the Enchantress is age '23.' Again, very rough age approximations for immortals. LOL.

Thor had attempted to grow his hair to match Loki's but found the length too bothersome, so it's only barely halfway down his back. The blond strands were kept from falling in his face by a red leather strap where half his hair was bound back.

Thor, Fandral and Volstagg are lacking their signature moustaches and beards. Fandral has soft, shiny, wavy hair (like spun gold) to just past his shoulders, with tiny pearl teardrop earrings fastened to each ear. Volstagg's wild, red hair is bound in a low ponytail, braided down his back and ending behind his knees, loose strands haphazardly framing his jolly face. (There's also a heavy metal weight tied to the end of Volstagg's braid which he uses as a surprise attack on unsuspecting opponents. When not in use, his braided red hair is tucked in his belt or draped around his shoulders.) Hogun's dark hair of thick, straight strands is the same length as Thor's but the top half is bound in a high, fanned topknot on his head, the rest parted into three bound strands tied together by a series of silver rings, five for each strand.

Everyone's armor---Thor, Loki, Sif and The Warriors Three---were all in the early stages of the ensembles we're all familiar with in the film, as they kept augmenting and perfecting their outfits over time. ^_^

Thor hasn't been presented with Mjollnir yet, but is adept with a sword and club. I’ve added my personal imagination of the origin of Sif's present weapon which she uses along with concealed throwing knives. Fandral uses a bow and his trusted heirloom rapier. Hogun is the most versatile fighter but for this chapter, favors a metal staff, bow, and long twin knives.

If you guys haven't noticed, I'm having a total riot inventing Asgardian 'swearwords.' ROFL.

In my personal opinion of Asgard, nicknames are only used between very close friends and family or from very long association with strict permission. Distorting someone's name was therefore an effective way to taunt and anger an enemy. (In Midgard, nicknames are used more often and quite carelessly, which is why Loki found it amusing when Alvi, Mars and Bryn insisted he use it to address them, since he hardly knew them.)

Eir's Healing Room is a specifically assigned space in Fensalir where several small chambers surround a large, circular stone hearth at the center. A gentle lip was carved into the outer perimeter of the stone hearth which served as comfortable seating for visitors. Located at 12 o'clock is Eir's medicinal storeroom, at 6 o'clock was a reading or activity chamber for use by patients only and annexed to a lovely garden where they can relax or walk through. (Each chamber main entrance has a thick, heavy, curtain instead of a door which led to the outside---no doubt designed for ease of movement in case of emergencies---but adjoining rooms are separated by a wooden door. If family members, spouses or close friends were healing beside one another, the wooden door annexing the chambers would stay open.)

Dr. Strange, Medusa, Air-Walker, Moondragon and Amora the Enchantress are all characters from the Marvel Comic universe. ^_^ Also, if any depiction of these characters seems wildly 'wrong' it's because I really have no idea how they really act, having only read their descriptions via Marvel Wiki.

I'm sure you're all wondering about the 'interesting' scene of 'sexual tension' between Thor and Loki. That will be (hopefully) further explained in another chapter. Ahem, no, it has nothing to do with the dark side of brotherly love...mostly. LOL. Ever wondered how the Asgardian race deals with puberty? I have. (evil grin)

I'm reminded of a scene in the movie Thor where Loki assumes the throne to the shock of Sif and The Warriors Three...and the defiant glare and smile Sif gave Loki when he refused to allow Thor back from his exile to Asgard. There's a complicated tension between Sif and Loki that I'm going to have fun exploring in future chapters. This should set the pace nicely.

Despite Asgard's war with Jotunheim, the Nine Realms are _dependent_ on each other for resources (ie. food, clothing, metal, weapons) so they can't always be openly hostile toward one another. Because of this, the residents of reach realm make frequent efforts to trade cordially with one other. (Sadly, Thor's generation grew up with horror stories of the Great War with Jotunheim and a prejudice was cultivated.) Not all residents of Jotunheim are openly despised, feared or hated, especially by the Nine Worlds' more ancient beings.

***I'd be delighted if curious readers decide to sneak a peak at my main tale 'Such Fragile Creatures' which these series of stories supplement.***

Thank you to all my readers out there! And, don't hesitate to drop me a note coz I really appreciate the feedback!

*(=^-^=)*


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